


Glass Fish Bowl

by Magnetic_Stars



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: 1970s, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1970s, Anger, Angst, Barriers, Cruelty, Destruction, F/M, Hurt, Imprisonment, Inappropriate Behavior, Internal Conflict, Loss of Faith, Loss of Powers, Loss of Trust, Marvel Universe, Mutant Experimentation, Pain, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychology, Self-Doubt, Slow Build, Tension, Unresolved Tension, VERY VERY VERY slow burn, dark themes, days of future past, inappropriate thoughts, long talks, playful banter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2020-12-23 18:40:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21085994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetic_Stars/pseuds/Magnetic_Stars
Summary: Five years after the assassination of Bolivar Trask, a hesitant psychology student decided to test her limits by interning at Trask Industries and studying one of its mutated inmates.The unusual husk of a man she got paired with resembled nothing of his past-self.





	1. The Quarters

**Author's Note:**

> I am SO excited to be delving into this new story. So far, it is a work in progress, and I understand that many people feel iffy towards fics that aren't fully completed, but you've been warned. I've done plenty of work already and know where I want this story to go. What I don't know, however, is how regularly I'll be posting the upcoming chapters. You've been warned there, too!

The coarse sand crunched noisily beneath the students’ feet as they marched towards Trask Industries: Research Centre and Laboratory division. The two-hour bus ride was long and tedious for everyone involved. Students desperately wiped the sleep from their eyes as they proceeded to move in a sluggish pace. To become victim of a faltering step now would’ve been incredibly stupid, since the band of Sentinels ushering them were unlikely to care if one fell behind before entering the facility. 

Kay walked at the back of the group, struggling with her heavy backpack full of textbooks and many years-worth of notes. Her college professor advised her not to take any material with her on the first day of her internship, but she had no idea what to expect. If she wasn’t going to start work right away, she hoped to at least make a positive first impression.

The Sentinels stopped everyone at the main entrance and executed a thorough security check. Kay figured she’d be asked to take off her coat or reveal the contents of her bag-pack, but the Sentinels were created ahead of their time, their technology and precision impeccably critical and scientific. With laser-red eyes, a Sentinel scanned the group of students with a single sweep.

“Subjects devoid of genetic mutation,” it announced with a deep, robotic voice. “Proceed into the facility.”

Upon entering, they stopped again at the mouth of a vast hallway and the doors behind them closed heavily. The students turned to one another confusedly and mumbled incoherently. The Sentinels stood around them in a wide circle and were eerily quiet. One could actually forget they were even there. Kay remained quiet, too

The swinging lights dangling from above were so weak that it would’ve been impossible to measure how high the ceiling was with naked eyes. It was unusually humid where they all stood, and Kay kept getting whiffs of… hospital. The overwhelming odors of chemicals and medicines were all that evaded her senses. Looking around, this place looked anything but a hospital.

“Ah, graduates. About time. Welcome to Trask Industries’ sub-division.”

A shiver ran up Kay’s spine. Still at the back of the group, she stood on her toes to get a better look at the stretch of the long shadow approaching them. A man walked swiftly towards them with a broad smile. He seemed to be in his late-forties and leanly built with hair neatly combed to the side. He dressed in dark trousers and wore a hard vest over his navy jacket, vaguely reminding Kay of a military uniform.

The smile fell from his face when he reached them. He visibly counted their heads under his breath.

“You’re only seven this year? Where’re the rest?” The man flipped through the pages of his notepad and scowled. “There should have been nine or ten more of you.”

“Newer internships were made available this semester,” answered a young man in a red jacket. “Many of us chose ones that didn’t involve a two-hour drive outside the City.”

“Then many of you will never understand the delicate sciences of your field, and where science doesn’t apply, no research is liable. You best keep that in mind.” He scanned them once more and let out a disappointed sigh. “My name is Colonel William Stryker, and I’m what most people call a military scientist. I'd been aiding Bolivar Trask in his search for a solution to our ‘mutant problem’ for nearly a whole decade until his ungodly death, may he rest in peace. Now, we at Trask Industries try our hardest every day to carry out his work and make this world a safer, better place for humankind. Many of you will see the extent of our research so far, and, here at Trask's, we always welcome newer, fresher insights from youth. Follow me.” 

Footsteps echoed as they all walked the entire length of the dark hall. Kay’s backpack rattled noisily as she tried to keep up. They reached a large steal door with a scanning machine plastered against the concrete wall. Colonel Stryker scanned his card and a collective “gulp” was emitted from the students when the door slid open and they followed suit.

With all the twists and turns they took, the facility reminded Kay of a complicated maze. She still staggered at the back of the group, painfully aware of the line of Sentinels that continued to follow them.

Briskly walking down a long tunnel, Kay took notice in the bolted metal doors on either side. There were no signs indicating what held inside, and when Kay tried to strain her hearing, she still couldn’t hear anything coming from the other side.

“Now,” Colonel Stryker said. “You will all get to meet your mutant subjects today and establish with them what you would like to accomplish within your three months. The majority of you, I believe, are interested in biochemistry. Depending on your specified study, we have assigned you all to mutants that best suit your interest.”

Excuse me, Colonel,” a girl with dark purple hair said. “You mean, we don’t get to choose our own mutant subjects?”

“No, Trask Industries took liberty in making a careful selection. These mutants have given their consent to being analysed and studied by you. They will aid your research in whatever way is acceptable and approved by me and the Standing Committee.”

“Our college professor told us the mutants won’t be demonstrating their mutation to us,” Red Jacket boy spoke again, sounding a bit annoyed.

“Many of these mutants possess dangerous abilities that are impossible to measure and withstand. No weapon, tank, or missile could restrain them if they turn aggressive. We give them a harmless sedative to numb their powers, for their safety and our own. We wouldn’t allow a class of university students in here if conditions were unsafe.”

At last, they entered an archway with a sign hanging over it that read “Quarters”. Here, Colonel Stryker finally stopped and turned to face the group.

“A Sentinel will be present with you each day of your sessions. They will not interfere unless they sense a threat. They’re there to protect you, so have no fear. Make use of this first encounter and really try to see if you’ll be able to work under constant surveillance while in the presence of something not entirely human, something we don’t entirely understand yet. We know that being in such a facility isn’t easy for everyone, so you’ll always have a chance to withdraw from this program. If you make that decision, however, we’re not letting you back in.”

Kay felt her palms begin to sweat. Something about his words didn’t settle well with her.

“If you choose to stay, you’ll be given temporary ID’s to enter the facility and make your way to your research subjects. I should warn you, though, we take security measures very seriously here. Any unauthorized wandering around will not be tolerated, and I have full right to cut you from this program without hesitation. Any questions?”

A skinny boy with curly, ginger hair raised a hand. “Do we have permission to explore methods of DNA experimentation?”

“Oh, yes. To those who’ve requested to indulge in DNA experimentation will be given a supervised trial period in the labs. If we see that your experiments don’t interfere with our own and that your method of study is harmless, then we might allow you to continue using the labs, given that you follow a set of rules and conditions. Any other questions?”

Everyone shook their heads in unison.

Colonel Stryker grinned before looking down at his notepad. “Alright then. First up, Gwyneth Reese. You’re assigned to Emma Silverfox. Her ability to transform her skin into pure crystalline is absolutely remarkable. She is practically bulletproof, and so far our research has shown that her skin cells are made up of the world’s hardest, natural, carbonated substance.”

Each time a student got paired, Colonel Stryker would usher them into a cell and close the heavy door after them. Kay watched and waited with anticipation until she was the last one standing.

_ Typical… _

“Ah,” Colonel Stryker turned to face her. “You must be Kay Harris. You were a very specific case, I remember pairing you up myself. I admit I had a tough time doing so, too. You’re not interested in biochemistry. You want to study mutant psychosis.”

She gave an awkward shrug. “Well, my major is strictly human psychology, but for my graduation project I thought it would be interesting to see how much I can relate human studies to mutants. None of my professors specialize in mutant affairs, so I figured some first-hand experience would do me some good.”

“You’re not the only one who thought it interesting. The mutant I picked for you was very intrigued by the idea. He doesn't normally take any part in these student visits. I do hope the two of you get along.”

Kay tried not to gulp too loudly. She failed and pretended to clear her throat.

“Who is it?” she asked.

“His name is Charles Xavier, a highly skilled telepath and telekinetic. We also believe he has the ability to manipulate people’s minds and construct realistic illusions, but we’re still looking into that. If he’s capable of more, we don’t know it yet. His mind is a bolted treasure chest and getting inside hasn’t been the easiest of quests. He’s not always feeling so patient and cooperative.”

“Oh,” Kay mumbled, feeling her palms begin to sweat again. “He... _ is _ harmless, isn’t he?”

“Yes, yes,” said Colonel Stryker, waving a dismissive hand. “Perfectly harmless, a real diplomat. I’m sure you’ll find him ever the attentive intellectual, if not a provocative hard-headed know-it-all.” He chuckled when Kay stared at him, speechless. “He’s _ harmless _.”

“You mean like… pet gerbil harmless, or a serial killer in handcuffs kind of harmless?”

Colonel Stryker laughed into his fist. “Neither. You needn’t let your imagination run away with you, miss Harris. You’re in very good hands at Trask's.”

That should’ve been somewhat comforting; it's a shame Kay was currently questioning her own motive and wondering how the hell she thought she could do this.

“And he won’t be able to use his powers on me?” she asked, very aware she was sounding more afraid than she actually felt. “Read my mind… manipulate me?”

“He’s as good as human in here. Our mutants are exposed to the numbing gas daily, it never leaves their system, unless we decide otherwise. You have nothing to worry about.”

Kay stared a bit, taken aback. “You gas them?”

The Colonel’s mouth quirked allusively. The expression was so faint, but Kay caught the change in his eyes, the small flame that had come alive, the way it danced as his eyes crinkled ever so softly.

“We house one of the world’s most dangerous species here, miss Harris. It should come as no surprise the methods we use to ensure the safety of our scientists, our interns, _and_ our mutants.” 

Nervously, she nodded, hoping that the beads of sweat rolling down her forehead weren’t visible to the man standing only a foot away from her.

His smile changed into a kinder one. “As I've said, have no fear. And besides,” he continued, nudging his chin to the quiet Sentinels standing behind her. “We’re always watching. One is already guarding him inside. You’ll never be alone.”

Colonel Stryker swiped an ID card along the laser-reading device against the wall.

“Access approved,” beeped a computerized voice, and the volt-like door unlocked with a crisp '_clunk'_.

“In you go. Take as much time as you need.” Colonel Stryker made way for her to enter and closed the door behind her.

The cell was a big white room with a thick glass wall dividing it horizontally. On Kay’s side of the room, there was nothing more than a single flip chair. The other side, however, was a bedroom, living-room, and library all in one. It didn’t look very cosy with its lack of windows and carpeting, but the metal-barred bed seemed decent enough and a tall cabinet of shelves standing against the far wall was a nice touch. It looked to be stacked with over a hundred books; it was practically overflowing. An overstuffed armchair was turned towards a vintage record player, and in that chair sat a frowning man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for Chapter Two!


	2. The Meeting

The man craned his neck to the side and stared at Kay bemusedly. Slowly, he rose to his feet and set the book he was reading down. Kay got a better look at him, although she still couldn’t fully see his face. His brown hair tumbled down to his shoulders in greasy waves and an unruly beard completely masked half of his features. His one-piece uniform was a ghastly shade of orange. It also seemed to be a size too big, judging by how the pant-legs pooled around his feet.

He looked so devastatingly…_normal_. Where was the scaly green skin, the extra limbs, the third gross eye or darting forked tongue?

Noticing that the top buttons of his one-piece were undone, Kay quickly averted her eyes to stare into his. There was a storm behind them; she felt it. It was awfully dark, and angry, and gradually growing.

“Hello,” she said amiably, unsure if he could clearly hear her. “My name is Kay Harris. It’s nice to meet you.”

He said nothing, but the frown between his brows deepened.

Kay nervously rubbed her hands against her trousers. She tried to be discreet, but something told her that very little escaped this man’s notice. His eyes narrowed, but he never blinked.

“I’m an undergrad interning here for my final project,” she said, feeling the need to explain. She waited, but still he said nothing. “I’m sorry, am I speaking loudly enough?” she asked, raising her voice, genuinely concerned as she took a few steps closer. “I believe Colonel Stryker already told you I’d be coming.”

“Please,” he said, grimacing. “You don’t need to shout. I can hear you just fine.” He spoke with a lilting foreign accent, his voice unexpectedly soft. She heard him perfectly through the tiny speakers on either side of the room. There wasn’t even a filtered tint to it.

_Huh… neat._

“Oh. I’m sorry,” she mumbled, feeling a hot flush creeping up her neck. “I ought to thank you for participating in my… well, in my-”

“Experiment,” he said, interrupting her.

“Research,” she corrected.

His jaw twisted in a way that made Kay think he might be pursing his lips. His hands came together for his fingers to entwine.

“Would you mind comparing the two?"

“I don’t understa-“

“The terms ‘experiment’ and ‘research’, define them, please.”

“Wait,” she said, feeling extremely perplexed. “Did you not agree to this arrangement?”  
  
“I did. I am a _‘willing subject’_, as Stryker enjoys wording it, however I’d like to understand your incentive. Forgive me, but a person who cannot confidently describe their own project is not someone I’d openly provide any time or attention to. A willing subject I may be, a helpful one I most certainly am not.”

Kay scoffed very, very loudly. He was challenging her, throwing her the bait and expecting her to tug harder than he was. With a huff, she took another bold step forward.  
  
“Experiments lead to new discoveries. I don’t have a hypothesis, at least, I don’t have one yet since I don’t want to be restricted to a single goal. Without a hypothesis, it is factually incorrect of me to regard this as an experiment. I am not trying to prove anything specific and I am certainly not going to be running any tests on you. I’m merely analyzing the similarities and differences between humans and mutants because I’m curious. It’s merely a comparative study through interviews and observation and all I ask is that you talk to me and be as truthful as possible.”  
  
Somewhere along the course of her speech, his eyebrows completely raised and his chin dipped downwardly. “Allow me a moment of clarity. Your grand project idea is nothing more than a series of chit-chat sessions with a mutant confined in a cell?”  
  
Kay felt a dull stab to her stomach. For a moment, he sounded like her college professor.

She shrugged. “I think you know my answer and I also think that it disappoints you.”  
  
“On the contrary, it doesn’t. Not at all. Stryker said something along those lines, but I’d thought he was bluffing. You realize, of course, that the interview and observation methods are commonly riddled with faults and biased judgments.”

Kay frowned. “If you’re as clever as you seem then you’d have heard me properly the first time. These methods are known and have been used to refer to non-experimental studies. I’m aware of the criticism regarding the methods. Biased judgments and unintended influence from the researcher have affected research studies and experiments alike in the past. Interviews and observation, however, remain a pivotal indicator in psychology. I’m not an expert yet, but I will try my best to avoid any biased judgment. Also, if anything, these methods are the easiest for me to administer.”

“How so?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest. Had Kay known any better, she’d have thought there was a hint of mild amusement in his voice. It was light and inquisitive, as though the preceding tension was gradually beginning to melt away.

“Well, for one, it doesn’t require me to manipulate or control your environment. Plus, it’s purely qualitative, unless you _want_ me to hook you up with wires and turn you into an experiment.”

To her surprise, he laughed, and it was terribly unsettling. She felt its vibration shaking her bones, wrapping around them crushingly. She shivered and waited for him to finish.

“No, that won’t be necessary, but I thank you for the sentiment,” he said, voice now blatantly laced with amusement. “Excuse me, Miss Harris, it’s not my intention to discourage you. If _you’re_ as clever as you seem, then you’d recall that I don’t provide any time or attention to someone who cannot confidently describe their own project. Fortunately, I now believe you know what you’re talking about.”

Kay stood there, dumbfounded. She felt a throbbing vein pulsating at the side of her neck and didn’t know what to do about it.

_He was testing me… **He** was testing **me**?_

“You don’t discourage me,” she said, voice hard. “This first meeting was meant to establish an adequate first impression and all you’ve done so far is complicate a matter that is all quite simple.”

“I don’t make _adequate_ first impressions, Miss Harris. I make accurate ones. Isn’t that what you should be after? To unveil my true personality and chart down my behavioral patterns? If you'd rather rely on biased judgments and have me stay _adequate, _then I should tell you now that I'm not the best-suited ‘subject’ for you to study.”

Anger brewed hotly within her. She felt a rush of blood to her face.

“You’re very quick to voice such harsh assumptions.”

“You make it too easy.” 

She glared._ Asshole_

Her blood boiled and her hands fisted painfully.

The Sentinel behind her released a low hissing sound. Looking over her shoulder, she realized that it was scanning her. A sudden jolt of fear shot up the length of her spine as the hairs at the back of her neck spiked with alert.

“Shhh… shhh…”

Whipping her head back to the man, she saw he had his hands up in surrender.

“Please, calm yourself,” he said, gently. “You’re agitated and it senses it. You’ll be fine, it won’t do anything to you. It’s me I’m worried about.”

She wanted to bite back, to spurt out something sassy, or clever, or even rude. Instead, she took in a long inhale and released it slowly.

“Colonel Stryker said they’d only react if I felt threatened. I didn’t.”

The man let out a muffled snort. “Machines don’t recognize human emotions. The concept doesn’t exist to them. They depend on numbers, man-made calculations. It probably sensed a chemical imbalance, an increased heartrate, arterial tension, a change in blood pressure or body temperature. Fascinating what could happen to the body in mere seconds of a triggering action.”

“How do you know all this?”

He shrugged sluggishly. “Knowledge is man’s oyster; I shouldn’t be explaining that to you.”

Although annoyed, she couldn’t help being curious. “Are you always this… decisive?”

“Yes. I’m regrettably worse on my bad days,” he said, eyes still on the Sentinel behind her.

“When are those?”

Cautiously, he reverted his gaze back to her. His expression was changed, no longer amused, but wary and perhaps even a bit shaken. His eyes quivered.

“If you choose to come back, you’d figure that out on your own.”

Silently, they stared at each other for a moment. She watched him as though he was going to morph into a beastly form, as though she could miss the magic trick with a blink of an eye. When no transformation took place, she tilted her head at him and began to think that he looked nothing more than a simple, jaded man who longed for a pair of pants that fit.

“I’m not what you expected, am I.”

He wasn’t really asking her. It sounded more like an observation from his part. Kay blinked dumbly at him for a few seconds. 

“I didn’t really have any expectations,” she answered meekly.

His head cocked to one side and his eyes crinkled. This wasn’t amusement. This was pure entertainment. Although he said nothing, Kay could read the word those regal eyes threw at her.

_Liar!_

Kay couldn't help the way she looked at him. He looked so _human_. How can he be anything else? She couldn’t wrap her head around it. 

“Can you read minds?” she asked, quietly.  
  
Wordlessly, he nodded.  
  
“Can you read my mind now?”  
  
“No.”

“Can you do other things?”

“Yes,” he said, taking a slow step forward. 

Sudden curiosity piqued her interest. “Like what?”

Another slow step forward. He stood very closely to the glass. “I’ll show you.”

For a second, she doubted him. “I thought they numb your powers.”

He grinned slyly, almost secretively. “They can’t numb what’s ambiguous to them.” He beckoned her to come closer, too. “The eyes see everything,” he explained, gaze flickering to the quiet Sentinel.

Swallowing nervously, she shuffled towards him and stood a little more than a foot away from the glass, but the man didn’t gesture for her to shorten the distance any further.

“Watch,” he whispered.

He lifted a hand up and spread his fingers wide. She watched closely, feeling an incomprehensible amount of excitement and anticipation.

With his other hand, he grabbed the extended thumb and bent it easily all the way down to his forearm. Looking up at her, he smirked. “You probably didn’t think I held such unique talent.”

When Kay rolled her eyes, the man chuckled in return. She crossed her arms and waited for the laughter to die out yet again. Up close, she got a better view of his white teeth. At that moment, she was also made aware of how dangerously pasty his skin looked.

“In all honesty though,” he said, settling into a mild smile. “I can’t use my powers, and even if I possessed a few priceless secrets, I wouldn’t voice them in here. Not where the red eyes watch and the mad scientists eagerly listen.”

“I should’ve known,” Kay begrudgingly admitted. Then, she actually cracked a genuine smile of her own. “I’m glad to learn you have a sense of humour.”

“Just because I’m a mutant doesn’t mean I’m entirely inhuman.”

“I’ll let my analysis determine that.”

“Of course. I’ll leave you to your interviews and observation,” he said, mockingly solemn. Suddenly, his eyebrows knotted. “How rude of me, have I even introduce myself? I assure you, I used to be very good with introductions, back in the day. Enjoyed them, too. Charles Xavier,” he said, bowing his head down ever so slightly. “And it’s very nice to meet you, too.”

“Excuse my curiosity,” Kay said, a bit timidly. “Colonel Stryker implied that you weren’t so keen on student visits. You seem more… willing than I expected.”

He straightened up fully. The relaxed jaw and tranquil eyes told her he didn’t need to think about his answer.

“I could tell you, Miss Harris, but then I’d ruin the flow of your research.”

Involuntarily, she chuckled. “I appreciate your concern.”

Feeling she’d gained all that she needed from this meeting, she turned to grab the backpack she’d dropped by the chair and swung it across her shoulder.

“Are you coming back?” he asked, hands going to lace behind his back. “Or have I put you off completely?”

She looked to him and offered a gentle smile. “We’ll see. Thank you for a very diverting meeting, Mr Xavier.”

“Call me Charles.”

“Alright. Call me Kay.”

. . .

The cell door locked automatically after she left. A Sentinel waiting outside ordered her to follow it. For such a large piece of machinery, Kay couldn’t help but marvel at how she couldn’t hear the Sentinel’s joints scrape together or squeak as it moved. It didn’t even make any thunderous footsteps, opting instead to mimic the sound of a soft breeze, a sound that is practically subliminal to those oblivious.

_A true weapon of war_, she thought.

She was led to a small office down a tight hallway. Colonel Stryker sat at a desk covered with a mass of paperwork. He regarded her with raised eyebrows.

“You’re the only student who took long.”

She smiled uncertainly. “Is that a good thing?”

“Sure, sure,” he mumbled, flipping through stacks of paper until he found what he was looking for. “Here. If you decide to take this internship, read the contract carefully, sign it, and fax it back to us along with your class schedule. You have two days to do so and once you do, we’ll tell you the days that are acceptable for you to come in. Now, I assume everyone is waiting for you at the bus.”

Kay thought that maybe he’d ask about what she thought of her mutant, but Colonel Stryker quickly ordered the Sentinel to send her away and closed the door after her.


	3. The Contract

For the next two days, kay’s mind was plagued with the dark memories of her past. She barely paid any attention to her classes and that infuriated her immensely.

“God damn it, I can do better than this,” she muttered through rattling teeth as she made her way to her student apartment. It was such a chilly night, but her thoughts were so mercilessly aggressive that she managed to ignore the biting cold.

Kay read and reread the contract over the next two days. A force stopped her from signing it, though, she wasn’t sure what it was. The contract was very straight-forward and practical. It demanded that she doesn’t disrupt industry procedures or any ongoing researches and experiments. She would be prohibited from recording any of her sessions, tagging along a friend, or bringing in harmful products.

It also stressed that Trask Industries has full right to withhold private information from her as well as the right to confiscate or use any information she would discover. These conditions made perfect sense to her, but, then again, they weren’t the problem. What’d been gnawing at her thoughts had to do entirely with the mutant she had been assigned to.

Gema, Kay's roommate, walked into the living room to where Kay grouchily lounged and flopped down on the couch next to her. Her dark, curly hair was confined in a messy ponytail, her clothes were covered with sawdust, and her hands were sprinkled with blunt splinters. 

She sighed heavily, turning her head to face Kay.

“Ciao.”

“Howdy,” Kay grinned.

“You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had.”

“Surprise me.”

“Eight hours!” She cried. “Eight! And Dax still needs me to help out tomorrow.”

“You know, for a chemistry student, you sure are dedicating a lot of time on carving wood and painting glass all day long. Couldn't you tell him you need a break?”

“No,” she whined, stretching the word out. “It’s the first workshop he’s ever tried to organize. No one else is helping him out. We made a lot of props today. He carved out two little lovebirds, said they're only for display and that he's giving them to me after the workshop’s done.”

Kay smiled fondly. “That boyfriend of yours is a real keeper.”

“He better be! Or else I’m getting stabbed by deadly splinters for nothing!”

Kay offered another smile, causing Gema to lift a brow.

“That was a decent joke,” she said, jabbing a finger into Kay’s side. “Should’ve tickled a ha-ha out of you. What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” Kay insisted, shaking her head. “Just that contract I haven’t signed yet. It’s due tonight.”

“I thought you’ve decided to sign it.”

“I thought so, too. But… I don’t know.” She released a tired sigh. “I’ve been remembering a lot of things. I remember old New York, before the Sentinels, before the revolution. It was only five years ago. All that destruction, the sirens, missing school for like a whole year… It’s all kept my mind busy. You know, I cried the day I first saw my school after it’d been half blown away. I hated school but I cried anyway. How messed up is that? Dad said that a group of young mutants tried to seek refuge there, and that they should’ve known there’d be no refuge for them anywhere. They were monsters to me, how else were they able to cause so much pain and destruction?”

Gema threw her a bemused look. “What does any of that have to do with your contract?”

“I’ve never seen a mutant before,” Kay continued, frowning slightly. "Not face-to-face while actively knowing they were one. I only know what I read about them, and I always expected them to look and act like the monsters captured on television.”

“Okay… I still don’t get it.”

“He looked normal,” Kay mumbled. “The guy in the cell. My mutant…no, my potential mutant subject. He looked like a normal man. Trask Industries even strips them of their powers, so he was normal _and_ normal-looking, do you get that?”

Gema laughed. “Yeah, well, serial killers don’t usually wear signs, do they? You’re over-thinking this.”

Frustrated, Kay groaned. “Maybe you’re right. On the bus ride back, this girl was talking about how her mutant had yellow spikes protruding from its forehead. Why couldn’t my mutant have that? I’m not asking for much. One spike, at least!”

Gema scoffed. “Oh I see, 'cause yellow spikes are way better than normal-looking, right? Listen, Kay, you’ve always wanted to study these things and now the chance is here staring at you in the face. In all honesty, I don’t think it’s the time for you to be doubtful. Trask Industries is the only reputational industry that specializes with human security against mutants. They’re trustworthy, safe-”

“I know, I know,” Kay sighed, closing her eyes. “I just wish he didn’t look so human. He seemed really educated too, smart… like… smarter than Bolivar Trask himself.”

Gema, unconvinced, crossed her arms loosely. “Uh-huh. And the fact that he’s confined in a cell proves that he’s what? A real Einstein?”

“Wouldn’t go that far,” Kay begrudgingly replied. “Just seemed like a guy who valued books and facts and precision and… I could pass him on the street and not suspect him of anything.”

“Is he cute?”

Gema’s question completely pulled the breaks on Kay’s whirling train-of-thought.

“No,” she blurted intuitively. “He wore a ferret on his face.”

“A… ferret?”

“Dumb, ugly beard,” Kay answered briskly with an exasperated wave. “Why would you ask me something so stupid?”

Gema shrugged, but she wore a sly smile which Kay knew all too well.

“Just trying to understand why you’re fabricating this whole contract-signing problem.”

Kay narrowed her eyes. “And you think ‘cute’ is enough to put me off from my work? I’m offended, Gemina.”

Gema pursed her lips suggestively. “Then prove me wrong, Kaydence. It’s only three months, and you’ll only be showing up there a few days during the week. As a friend, I’m telling you that you’ll regret it if you don’t take this opportunity. Think of your experiment.”

“Research,” Kay muttered under her breath. “You’re right, I know I’ll regret it.”

She got up to retrieve the contract and flipped to the final page. Without thinking about it any further, she signed her name and then let the pen carelessly fall from her hand when she finished.

Gema patted her back. “It’ll all be alright.”

“Yeah,” Kay said quietly. “I guess I’m just a bit anxious. My mutant is very… outspoken and… and enigmatic.” 

“How do you mean?” 

Kay briefly thought back to her meeting the other day and shuddered. “Every word that came from his mouth stunned me. He spoke so definitively and freely... unafraid. I can tell he’s going to be a real challenge for me.”

“Maybe that’s why he was assigned to you. You wouldn’t want to end up with someone who wouldn’t talk, right? What would be the point?”

“True. I really hope I don’t mess this up.”

Gema grinned, causing her small dimples to pop. “I’m not promising that you won’t. If you do, though, I promise to be there and clean after your messes.”

Kay couldn’t help but laugh and throw her arms around Gema’s shoulders.

“Grazie, mia cara.”

\-------------------------

_Trask Industries Research Centre and Laboratory_   
_Sub-Division Headquarters_   
_Roscoe, NY_   
_January 16, 1976_

_Dear Miss Harris,_

_It brings us great pleasure to welcome you into Trask Industries and to aid you through your college internship program over the next three months. We thank you for submitting the required documents and assume that you have thoroughly understood and acknowledged the facility’s conditions and sensitive time schedule._

_As you are already aware, interns are obligated to manage their own transportation to the facility’s headquarters. You will be given thirty minutes from the start of your session to attend it. Tardiness after that will result in an unexcused absence and a written notice to be sent to your college internship supervisor. Should unfortunate events prevent you from attending your session, it is mandatory that you contact us immediately and cancel. After cancellation, you will not be allowed access into the facility, given the possibility that your mutant subject may be occupied with Trask-related studies._

_You will shortly receive a fax highlighting the days available for you to visit Trask Industries and resume your study of Mutant 218, Charles Francis Xavier. The current schedule will only represent week one and two. Depending on our availability, these days are likely to change. Upon your arrival on the first day, you will be given a temporary ID which will only allow you entrance through doors that are permitted to you. We accentuate again the sensitivity of our schedule and urge that you dutifully abide by it._

_Once more, we welcome you again and hope that you make the most out of this internship opportunity._

\-------------------------


	4. Session #1

The sun was nowhere to be found when Kay woke up on the day her internship started. Even after she got ready and made it to her rented car, the sun had barely begun to rise.

Her session was scheduled for 8:30, not a timing Kay would’ve picked out herself. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she didn’t have to wake up at five to make it there on time.

“Even the sun gets to snooze,” she mumbled with half-lidded eyes.

Switching the radio on, Kay hoped that it might keep her awake as she took the two-hour-drive to Trask Industries.

The roads were dark and relatively empty, a pleasant surprise that put her at ease. Idly, Kay began to reminisce on the day the Sentinels were released and how her family had to barricade themselves in their home. She figured the mutants tried to stay at home as well in an attempt to keep out of trouble, but the Sentinels were too clever. All it took was thirty days to wipe them out of New York, save for the few that were taken for research and experimentation.

Kay, seventeen-years-old at the time the bombing had started, understood why it was happening, and she remembered feeling a vague detachment towards the mutants. Her parents assured her that the mutants were the evil spirits that reaped the earth; she believed them completely. She remembered watching the news with them a lot. It was almost always on, and Kay often listened to the governor of the state speak whenever he was being interviewed on air.

“It’s the only way,” he’d said once, the memory still fresh in Kay’s mind. “The only way to be made anew is to rid the body of all disease. These mutants are ill creatures. If we do not stop their spread now, then we’ll all become an abomination to nature. Think of your children, your families. It’s the only way for survival.”

Everyone hated the mutants. They were terrifying. Kay could still feel a pang of hatred towards them sometimes, especially when she revisited those darker memories. She’d been doing that a lot lately. There was no school, no theaters, no friends, and no decent food. The economy didn’t improve until three years later, and even then, standards were low, given that well-paying jobs were scarce and tourists were no longer attracted to the City.

Kay gave a frustrated sigh, feeling sick and tired of the past. There was, after all, no use dwelling over what had already been done. The mutants were dealt with and they were no longer a menacing threat to humanity.

Kay took the same route as the bus when it showed them the way. By the time she reached the small town of Roscoe, her hands were clammy, her shoulders were tense, and her back was aching. She followed the curving strip of Willowemoc Creek until Trask Industries appeared between the junction of Roscoe’s two significant water streams. A Sentinel guard processed her student card at the gate and allowed her to park in the industry’s private parking space.

After going through the same security check as the first time, she was given her temporary ID by another Sentinel at the entrance of the facility. Nobody guided her as she made her own way inside. She figured it was unlikely that they trusted her so much to leave her alone, but rather that this place was planted with security cameras and heavily monitored by wandering Sentinels. She would’ve been stupid to try anything stupid.

When she reached the ‘Quarters’ hall, an attendance slip had been taped to the wall. She messily scrawled down her name and the time she’d come in. Finally, she made her way down the hall to the final cell. She held her breath as she swiped her temporary card into the slot. When it unlocked with a crisp, metallic **“clunk”**, Kay sighed with relief.

“Commence voice test.”

Upon entering, Kay released a loud shriek when the Sentinel guard snapped its head towards her.

She leapt away from it, throwing a hand over her beating heart. 

“What?”

“Voice recognized. Welcome Kay Harris.”

Kay hung her head in sudden exhaustion. “Scared the bejezuz outta me. It’s only 8 a.m. for God’s sake. Don’t do that again.”

The Sentinel, of course, didn’t reply. Kay gave herself a few extra seconds to recover before lifting her head. What she saw next shocked her more than the Sentinel did.

On the floor, Charles Xavier was sprawled on his back, hands resting coolly on his stomach. His head was turned towards her, his eyes squinting as though he couldn’t make out who she was.

“Mr Xavier,” she greeted with an embarrassed smile. “Good morning. Sorry about the ear-piercing shriek. Your buddy here has no courtesy.” Immediately after voicing the joke, she regretted it. As a practicing psychologist, that was probably the most insensitive thing she could’ve said on the day of their first session.

With a burning sensation blossoming in her cheeks, she thought about whether to apologize or attempt to crack another bad joke. The more she waited for a reaction, the more she surmised that he didn’t hear her.

“Please, don’t call me that,” he said, voice hoarse. “It makes me feel terribly old.”

Relieved, she nodded. “I’ll make a note of that.”

As she began to organize her notes, she peered up to catch him watching her lazily. He propped himself up on his elbow, chin resting in the palm of his hand. He waited for her to stop her rummaging before opening his mouth.

“So, you’ve decided to stay,” he started amiably. “Does this mean I have reason to believe you like me?”

Kay stifled a small smile. “No more reason to believe that I’m just trying to ace this project and graduate. More importantly right now though, is there a reason why you’re on the floor?”

“No. Is it really morning?”

“Yes, but… don’t you know?”

He snorted. “Don’t tell me there are windows in here that have escaped my notice all these years. I’ll believe that I’ve truly lost my mind.”

“Surely you have a timepiece of some sort,” Kay reasoned, surveying his cell.

“I did, actually,” he said, running a hand through his hair, brushing it out of his face. “A clock, a tiny thing, but I asked to have it removed.”

“Why?” Kay asked, genuinely interested.

The corner of his mouth thinly quirked. “Do you have an agenda to how you wish to dive into this study of yours? Please, don’t let me take the reigns and steer it elsewhere.”

Kay felt the strangest urge to throw him a dry look. Instead, she bit her cheeks and assembled her outline for the week. By the time she looked up again, she jerked back to find that he was facing her completely, sitting with his legs crossed and his knees pressed against the glass.

“Um… wouldn't you be more comfortable in a chair?”

He broke into a languid smile. “I’m very comfortable here, thank you.”

Kay cleared her throat. “Alright. As I’ve mentioned when we first met, I’d appreciate it if you could be as honest with me as possible. If there’s anything you don’t want to share, that’s fine. Just let me know.”

“I’ll try not to disappoint.”

_Me too, _Kay thought.

“I’d like to start with your childhood, the very beginning. Where you grew up, went to school, who your friends were-“ Interrupted by an agonizing groan, she stopped.

“Too boring,” he complained, face contorted in exaggerated torment.

“Do you not want to share those pieces of information?”

“It’s not that,” he brushed off with a dismissive hand. “My childhood was uneventful, at least, until I discovered my mutation.”

“Well… I’d still like to hear about it, if you don’t mind. If you’d rather not-“

“I was an only child,” he cut in brashly. “My father was a nuclear scientist and my mother… a pinnacle for societal class. They loved me and I loved them.”

He stopped and threw Kay an illustrated look that seemed to say: ‘Well, get on with it’.

Kay tried to keep her expression completely neutral. “Are your parents like you? Mutants? S-sorry, I meant to ask if they have some form of-“

“No.” His eyes crinkled with mild amusement. “They were very much your average, day-to-day people. I believe they raised me as such, in a manner of speaking.”

Kay didn’t comment. Her thoughts began to race but she made an effort not to draw any early conclusions. Instead, she wrote everything down very carefully, including some personal side-notes in the margins.

“How would you describe your relationship with them?”

“Fine, normal.”

Her writing hand stilled.

Words like ‘fine’, and ‘normal’, are not typically considered valuable pieces of information when it comes to any legitimate research. They don’t mean anything, and Kay hesitated to write those words down. She didn’t know what his definitions for ‘fine’ and ‘normal’ were and was tempted to ask for further elaboration.

When she looked up at him, she found that he was already studying her, his eyes fixed and tight. She could tell he knew what was going through her head.

“You didn’t write that down.”

“It wasn’t a very wholesome answer,” she replied gently, not intending to anger him. “Is… is it the only answer you’re comfortable giving?”

He fell quiet and she waited for him. Since Kay never had any field experience before, she wasn’t sure how long to wait for an unspoken answer and when it was appropriate to probe her subject. The grave look on his face, however, made her wait in silence. The downward curve of his mouth and the sudden crease between his brows caused the expression on his face to seem awfully pained and grievous.

“I was young when they passed away. My memory of them is only that of a child's. They were my two standing pillars, the base of my foundation. They enlisted me in the best schools, gave me the best future they had to offer… sacrificed too much. I only began to feel truly grateful after I’d grown up.” He chuckled quietly to himself. “A bit too late, isn’t it?”

Kay didn’t reply. She knew she shouldn’t throw her opinion around. He would’ve probably accused her of biased judgments if she did.

“What did they sacrifice?”

She knew, even before she asked the question, that he wouldn’t like it. His jaw clenched and his lips pursed with disdain. He looked strict and peeved and Kay couldn’t help but wonder how he’d look without the messy beard.

“For starters,” he began with a sardonic smile. “They left dear England to raise me here, in the Land of the Free. Had they known what this place had in store for people like me, they probably would have changed the course of their plan.”

_As if ‘dear England’ isn’t also annihilating the mutant population like the rest of the world is,_ Kay thought to herself, realizing too late that she was judging.

There was a small flame flickering in his eyes. She, at first, wanted to describe his look as “angry”, but he wasn’t. The grin he wore was sour, and the fact that he had just placed the blame on an entire country rather than consider the rest of the world told Kay that he was undeniably bitter and resentful. She made a note of that.

She decided to move on casually. She was not there to fight him. She had to learn to be impassive and aloof during these sessions.

“How did your parents deal with your mutation?”

Charles sniffed. Losing a bit of the coiling tension, his shoulders relaxed and he sat more comfortably with a slouched back. “They never knew. I was nine when my abilities first started to manifest. I didn’t understand what was wrong with me until a few years later. Mother and Father were gone by then.”

He released a very quiet sigh, then. Kay didn’t hear it, but she watched the way his chest expanded and deflated.

“I don’t want to discuss my parents anymore,” he announced. His eyes lost their glaring touch, and Kay understood that he’d had enough of this topic.

She nodded. “Alright. Thank you for sharing what you could.”

Reading through her notes, she fell quiet for a moment. She needed to establish his social psyche, to get a bit more information on how he was raised, his role in society. Pushing all the questions involving his parents aside, she opted for a different approach.

"So... you're British."

Charles barked out an unexpected laugh. "Are you asking me or telling me?"

Kay felt her hands begin to sweat. "I'm sorry, I should've worded that better. Are you... I mean, do you come from... no. Sorry-"

"A reasonable question would be 'where are you from?'" Charles said, eyes undeniably dancing with humor. "Never assume. Always use clear and simple questions. Don't overthink them. You'll make _me_ overthink them, too. Believe me, you wouldn't want that."

Baffled, Kay just stared at him. For a few seconds, she couldn't manage a reaction. It almost sounded like he was _tutoring_ her. 

"How _do_ you know all this?"

Charles grinned. "I don't remember that being what you were trying to ask."

Kay gritted her teeth achingly. She felt irritated, embarrassed, confused, and she didn't know how to recover.

_Just how big is this guy's head?_

Exhaling deeply, she buried her frustration and managed a decent smile. "Where are you from?"

"I am British, thank you for noticing. My family came from London originally, however, I was born and raised in New York."

"Did you visit London often while growing up?"

"Hardly ever, though I did move there to further my studies."

"Do you prefer it there over here?"

Charles threw her a flat look. "I'd prefer the Bermuda Triangle over a place like _here_, love."

Flabbergasted, Kay desperately went over her words. "I meant to ask whether you prefer London over New Yor-"

"Of course that's what you meant," Charles said hastily. "Clear and simple questions! They'll make a world of difference, I assure you. Curiously, I don't really have an answer to your question. Both places helped serve me sufficiently during the different stages of my life. London was breathtaking, but New York is home, after all." 

Writing everything down, Kay flipped to the next page. It's slightly damp from all her nervous sweating, and Kay hoped that the ink wouldn't end up smearing all over the place. She needed to calm down. She needed Charles to stop criticizing her and to start answering questions like a well-behaved test subject.

“Can you run me through your childhood, whatever comes to mind?”

“Run you through?” he repeated.

Kay cleared her throat. “Uh… yes. Yes, just… briefly summarize – “

“I didn’t have friends growing up. Don’t misunderstand me, I was a very social child, got along with everyone, but children my age bored me to death. During my teenage years, I learned how to hone my mutation, exploited it at times to get inside other people’s heads, learned the art of charm and wit, and… what else…” Charles mumbled, scratching the underside of his chin in thought. “I Inherited my parents' mansion when I turned eighteen, hated it, became interested in the field of genetics and biophysics, studied both in graduate school at Oxford–“

“You studied two science majors at the same time?” Kay couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice and the slow growing grin on Charles' face told her he noticed.

“Did I not mention the third?”

“You… you’re not serious.”

“Please don’t underestimate me, Kate.”

“My name is Kay,” she corrected, ignoring the sizzling blood in her veins. “What else did you study?”

The smile he gave her then was a lazy one. He rested back against his palms and let his head drop to his shoulder. “Would you like to guess?”

Kay frowned against her better self-control. “This is not a game, Mr. Xavier.”

“Charles,” he corrected, eyes flashing momentarily. “I wouldn’t consider this a game. You’d be making an educated guess, however, that wouldn't mean you can’t have a bit of fun guessing.”

“How can I guess scientifically when I haven’t been given any facts?”

“You have. You’re just not paying attention.”

Kay glared. An insult sat at the tip of her tongue. She was two-hours away from home in a scientific military facility feeling hungry, stressed, and nervous, and her very own mutant subject was making her doubtful of her own intelligence… and on the very first day!

She took yet another deep breath to calm herself. She didn’t want the Sentinel behind her blasting her mutant before he’d proven himself useful to her research.

“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine,” she said decidedly. “I’ll just move on to another question.”

Charles rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, and Kay felt like she’d disappointed him.

_Huh, the irony._

He flicked his wrist as though to usher her to keep going.

Kay went on to ask a few questions about his life during school, when he was still a child, but Charles had long lost interest in her and her questions. When asked if he got along with students or teachers more, he replied with ‘I can’t remember, not sure’. When asked about his grades he replied with ‘I have two PhDs and a third one on the way, what do you think?’

She wasn’t getting anywhere with him anymore, and she couldn't even understand the reason why. She didn’t want to coax out his answers, she wanted them organic and authentic.

Tired and annoyed, Kay put her pen down fifteen minutes later.

“Are we finished?” Charles asked, perking up from his slouched position.

“For today.”

“Was that two hours?”

“I don’t know.” _Like you actually care to know._

He pursed his lips thoughtfully and finally pulled himself up from the floor. After retrieving a thick book from his mini library, he went to sit in his armchair and rested an ankle atop a propped knee. Peering up from his open book, he threw the stunned Kay a quizzical look.

“I beg your pardon, I thought we were finished for the day?”

The jerk was kicking her out of his cell. Kay stared, dumbfounded.

“I like keeping ahead of schedule,” he explained, probably mistaking her speechlessness for confusion. “Reading is the only form of amusement I’m allowed around here. Any minute now after you leave, my _‘buddy’_ there, as you’ve so humorously put it, is going to usher me to a lab where people in hairnets are going to quite literally poke at my head with a stick. I’d like to get some reading done before my mood goes foul for the rest of the day. Is there anything else you need?”

Kay took a slow step back. “No… just… I have one request.”

He stayed quiet, though he lifted a curious brow.

“Would you mind trimming your beard?”

Charles sneered, tilting his head a little to one side. “That’s a very peculiar request to make of anyone.”

“It’s distracting,” she explained shyly. “I need to be focused while I work.”

A mischievous smirk worked its way to Charles' mouth. “As you wish,” he said with a slight bow of his head. "I’ll see to it at once."

Kay didn’t expect such a response. She smiled appreciatively.

“Until next time,” she said before leaving the cell.

Her smile fell as soon as she was in the hall, because she knew that she did not handle this first session properly. She let him get under her skin and she knew that he did so deliberately. She had to think of something smarter to do next time, for she had lied to him. She knew exactly how long that session lasted, and she was not proud of it.

\-----------

Abruptly after hearing the cell door lock, Charles dropped the book he’d picked up without a second thought. Having a book in his hand still felt natural to him, it felt like a vital extension to his arm, but he never intended on reading a single word.

Resuming his position on the cold floor, he stared up at the blotched ceiling and began to count the scratch marks carved into the grey veneer. There were thousands of them, an infinite number, it seemed. It was a mindless hobby, something that helped keep him busy and calm at the same time. No matter how far he counted, he’d always come back to start from number one again; thus, the creation of an endless game.

_Thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three_

He forgot what it was like to converse casually with a person. It caused his throat to go dry and his mind to concave. So many memories he didn’t want to relive…

_Sixty, sixty-one, sixty-two, sixty-three_

He didn’t try to read her mind; he knew there’d be no use. He was tired, weak, and something else… He couldn’t put his finger on it. Maybe he was feeling the progressive signs of hopelessness, or maybe it was just the antagonizing possibility that he may be mentally damaged for the rest of his days.

Somewhere in the back of the dusty, unused part of his mind, Charles began to twiddle with thoughts around a certain nervous girl with only half a name. One thing he was certain of was that this girl hadn’t the slightest clue on what she was doing. Reading minds might not have been his forte anymore, but he could still read her body. She was tense the entire time, hardly scratching an itch even if it gnawed at her flesh. She was as nervous as a doe in an open meadow, fully guarded and alert. 

He’d now counted beyond one-hundred and kept going. His eyes worked methodically, scaling a certain designated patch of ceiling layer-by-layer before carving out another patch and repeating the regime.

He didn’t like her hair. Deep brown and pulled back into a low ponytail. Whenever she faced him directly, he could’ve easily mistaken her for a boy, especially since she wore a shapeless pair of low-waist trousers which hid her feminine curves. She wasn’t ugly, and her features _were_ considerably girlish; soft jawline, cattish eyes, pink lips, and a small nose with a cute little tip. It was just that God awful horse’s tail she had swishing at her back.

Charles scoffed loudly at the fresh memory. It ruined his concentration.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

_One, two, three, four, five,_

He had no way of knowing how long he stayed this way for. He’d counted two-thousand four-hundred and twelve scratch marks – a disappointing number compared to his previous records – until a soft beeping sound was emitted and gas started coming in through a small air vent. Charles could hardly feel his insides burning anymore as the gas worked its way in to tinker with his very DNA, entrapping him. Closing his eyes, he gave in to it, allowed the poison to spread and felt his body completely surrender.

He knew what was to come after this. He'd memorized the routine by now. Right on time, just as the gas stopped seeping in, the Sentinel watching him hissed as it stood up.

Charles cursed under his breath and listened as his _‘buddy’_ unlocked the glass door at the far right side of the cell.

“Mutant 218 summoned for neurotransmission testing. Place your hands behind your head,” it monotoned at him. It sounded like scraping metal to his ears.

“No,” he said solidly.

“Mutant 218 summoned for neurotransmission testing. Place your hands behind your head,” it repeated.

“I’ve heard, and no.”

The Sentinel hissed again, but it was different this time.

“Oh, Charles,” came Stryker’s voice through the Sentinel’s speaker. “I thought we moved past your stubborn antics, especially since you know where they lead you.”

A corner of Charles’s mouth curled acrimoniously. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Good. Then stand with your hands behind your head and come quietly.”

Charles, not in the mood for violence, did as he was told obediently.

The Sentinel did not move towards him as it should have to escort him out. Instead, it hissed again.

“If you were planning to comply, why risk the possibility of being dealt with by force?”

Charles grinned, but it did not reach his eyes. “I like to make sure you’re really there behind that mountain of scrap metal.”

Stryker gave a patronizing chuckle. “We’re always watching you, Charles.”

_And I am always aware,_ Charles thought back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. This took forever to get done, but boy did I love writing it! It only gets crazier from this point onwards!
> 
> Voice your thoughts and let me know what you think so far!


	5. Session #2.5

Late, Kay sprinted towards the campus workshop where Gema often helped her boyfriend out with his exhibit. It could’ve been a pleasant twenty-minute walk had Kay not forgotten she made lunch plans and nearly dozed off on the couch.

She came to a screeching halt just as Gema left through the front door of the studio workshop with Dax towering behind her. They were both covered with sawdust and paint. 

“Ah, there she is!” Gema greeted, giving the panting Kay a quick hug. “See, Dax? Told you my girl here is never late.”

Dax chuckled lightly. His long, sandy hair was held in a tight bun, and his large teeth gleamed as he grinned. Kay always thought he looked like an artist, especially when he had paint stains all over his hands and jeans as he did right at that moment… then again, he _was_ an artist. A pretty damn good one, according to Gema. 

“Yeah, well, punctuality nearly killed her. Y’alright there?”

Wheezing, Kay gave a thumbs up.

“That’s a relief.” Turning to face Gema, he leaned in to softly peck her lips. “Thanks for the help again, Gems. I’ll see you later?”

“You sure you don’t want to join us for lunch?” Gema asked.

“And get in the way of you two gossiping about me? I wouldn’t dream of it!”

“Fine,” Gema grinned, pushing him away. “Surprise me with some dinner tonight then. Love you, Pupo.”

“Love you more, Nugget,” he sang before going off in the opposite direction.

“Wow. Aren’t you two the absolute cutest,” Kay teased, nudging her friend’s shoulder. 

Gema giggled. Gema _never _giggled unless the prime topic involved her special someone.

“Oh, stop,” Gema says coyly. “Say, when are you gonna get all cutesy with your own lovebug? You know I’m dying to double date.”

Kay grimaced. “Didn’t I try dating that computer science guy last year? Bert? Herbert?”

Gema coughed into her fist. “_Hubert_.”

“Thank you! Dating him told me I needed to focus more on my studies. I really cannot afford the extra distraction.”

“You didn’t exactly date him, Kay. You went out twice.”

“Thrice,” Kay mumbled. “Although, I did excuse myself early on that one. He wouldn't stop throwing knock-knock jokes at me, I couldn’t take it.”

“Ah, yes, I remember that night. You watched Donny and Marie for hours to calm down.”

“And it still didn’t help much! All in all, I’m not interested in dating right now, sorry to hurt your feelings. Anyway, I didn’t run a marathon to get here and talk about dates. I’m starving.”

“Say no more!” Gema looped an arm around Kay’s and headed out towards their preferred Mexican diner.

When Kay’s chicken burrito arrived, she’d managed to scarf it down within a matter of two minutes. With a disturbed look on her face, Gema watched in shock.

“You gotta remember to chew, Kay.”

“I’ve barely been eating lately,” Kay confessed, now reaching out for her coke. “I had a whole can of baked beans for lunch yesterday and called it a day. Haven’t eaten since.”

Only after consuming half her beverage did Kay realize her friend was closely watching her, still.

“What?”

“How did it go?”

Confused, Kay scrunched her nose. “How did what go?”

“Your session yesterday, smarty. You were quiet all day yesterday and now you tell me you’ve barely been eating. You’re stressing. So, tell me. How was it?”

_Fine, normal_, Kay mockingly thought to herself.

“Alright,” she decided to say instead.

“That bad, huh?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Well, you _are _avoiding eye-contact. Plus, you’re frowning.”

Kay smiled around a mouthful of corn chips. “You’re clever.”

“I know,” Gema grinned, flauntingly tossing her ponytail onto her other shoulder. “Well, come on. Dish it out. What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Kay grumbled. “That’s the problem. I barely got enough information from him and when I went over my notes, I could barely understand a word of it!”

“His answers sucked?”

“That, and I think I was sweating so much that my pen kept slipping. At one point my handwriting completely turned to squiggles!” Kay dramatically dropped the corn chip she’d picked up, no longer feeling hungry.

“Oh, Kay,” Gema sighed, reaching out to pat her arm. “You’re always too hard on yourself. It was your first session. You know it can only get better from here, right? Wasn’t he nice to you?”

Kay sneered. “Nice? I don’t know. I mean, I guess he was polite-ish.”

Gema lifted a brow. “…ish?”

“I can’t decide what he’s like. He seems nice enough one minute and then it’s almost like he gets bored suddenly and gets this weird… attitude? Like, I found him on the floor when I first walked in, which was weird, then he was polite, then bitter, then playful, then annoyed, then bored… It stressed me out!”

Gema snorted. “It’s no wonder he was assigned to you. He’s clearly got issues.”

Kay bit her lip thoughtfully. “I think he’s forgotten.”

Gema reeled back with a curious look on her face. “Forgotten what?”

“I’m not sure yet, lots of things. I should’ve asked him how long he’s been a prisoner… though I should probably word that in a better, less offensive way. I don’t want to make him mad.”

Gema smiled brightly. “Aw, I don’t think anyone can get mad at you, patatino.”

Kay’s features melded into a very dry look as she fixed her friend with an unamused leer. “Did you just call me a ‘potato’?”

Gema’s smile widened. “Si.”

She’d managed to dodge away from the flying corn chip Kay threw her way.

**Morning the Next Day.**

Coming home after her morning classes, Gema was surprised to find Kay wrapped up in a blanket by the window.

“Kay!” she greeted cheerfully. “What’re you doing back so early? Is Roscoe closer than I think it is?”

Gema received no response. Her smile faltered as she studied her cocooned friend. Kay didn’t even turn around, but Gema became aware of her quiet sniffling.

“Hey,” Gema, apprehensive and concerned, slowly approached Kay. “Are you alright?”

When Kay looked over her shoulder, her face was pale and glistening with tears. With bloodshot eyes and ruby red lips, she cracked a helpless smile that brought no joy to her eyes. It only made her look all the more devastating and heart-wrenching.

“Oh my God, what happened?” Gema asked, voice doused with worry.

Kay sighed very, very deeply. “I made him mad.”

**Earlier that Morning**

Kay walked into Trask Industries with a determined mindset to get some positive results from her mutant. After revising her methodology and the way she had handled her previous session, she was certain she would be able to remedy her ways and not lose her temper, patience, or nerve this time.

When she entered the last cell at the end of the hall, she was prepared for the Sentinel’s inquiry.

“Commence voice test,” blared the Sentinel.

“Good morning to you, too.”

“Voice recognized. Welcome Kay Harris.”

Feeling accomplished, Kay grinned as she went over to the lonely chair. She’d half expected to find Charles on the floor again, or perhaps even lounging in his chair. Instead, upon first glance, the cell looked completely empty. Then, her attention fell to the heaping mound of blankets on the bed. Instantly, she felt awkward.

Was he actually sleeping? Did she come at the wrong time?

“Good morning, Charles,” she greeted gently.

Nothing.

Kay shuffled her feet aimlessly, unsure if knocking on the glass wall would make him feel like an aquarium fish or not.

“Excuse me? Charles? Are you awake?”

“I don’t wish to talk today,” came a muffled voice.

Astonished, Kay had to take a few seconds to react calmly.

“It’s a bit too late to cancel the session now… Are you not feeling alright?”

“Must you interview me today?”

“Technically, yes. I mean, I don’t know if I can schedule a make-up session. Is something wrong? Sorry, but… I did drive for two hours to get here. Maybe you can let me know in advance if you’re not in the mood to talk? Perhaps Colonel Stryker could get in touch with me."

“Kay,” the sharpness of his tone was enough to silence her. “I want nothing more than to be left alone today. Kindly allow me my privacy.”

Kay racked her brain for a word to describe what was happening. She’d read about it somewhere; she should’ve been able to remember it. She wanted to use the term ‘unconscious resistance’, where her subject is seemingly unwilling to communicate, but no… Charles appeared to be doing this quite consciously. He’s blatantly telling her to scram. Although the thought angered her, Kay tried to think of ways she might reason with him.

“Were you not expecting me today?” she asked. “You know that I’m scheduled to come here three days a week, don’t you? I mean-"

With a frustrated huff, the blanket flew to the floor and Charles got up to sit at the edge of the bed. His long hair hung over his face, concealing it. Kay stopped herself from taking an extra step towards him. She decided not to speak and instead waited for him to feel comfortable to break the ice first.

When he did speak, however, his tone was the iciest Kay had ever heard it.

“Am I an animal to you?”

Confused, Kay frowned. “Of course not.”

She could hear a slight snort coming from within the cell.

“Really?” Though he said it lightly, there was a definite challenge in that one word. “Am I human to you?”

Icicles shot through her chest.

“Charles, please. Have I done something to offend you?”

“I’d like you to answer the question, Kay,” he said tersely. “I’ve done all the answering last time. Indulge me, if you don’t mind.”

She did mind. She minded very much.

“I’m not supposed to voice my personal opinions,” she replied stiffly. “It could affect my work.”

“Yeah? Fuck off, then.”

Her blood thrummed furiously. “Mr Xavier, I take my work very seriously and I am trying to understand what the issue here is. I’m also treating you with the upmost respect and would ask that you return the…”

Slowly, in a most suspenseful manner, Charles turned to look at her. His hair still hung around messily, but at least she could now see his face… his unrecognizable face. Apart from the fact that it was grossly swollen and inflamed, dry blood matted the left side while his right eye was completely blackened and closed shut.

With his back hunched and his shoulders curled inwardly, Charles looked frail, small, and weak. He’d been beaten to a pulp, and Kay did not need to ask him what happened to him to know. She had a good imagination. 

“Would you not say I look like a rabid animal to you?”

Pained, Kay set her bag down and slowly walked towards the glass wall. “I’m sorry you went through that, Charles,” she said earnestly.

To her great surprise, Charles hoisted himself up, groaning as he did. Carefully, he limped his way to her, only stopping to face her fully. Up close, she could see the blood filling his opened eye. 

“What good, miss Harris,” Charles started, voice deep and low, “is your pity going to serve me now?”

“I didn’t mean for it to sound that way” Kay replied, sounding a bit sheepish even to her own ears. “I meant to offer my sympath-”

“Don’t,” Charles snapped quietly, eye glaring and jaw taut. “You don’t sympathize with me. How could you? Am I human to you?”

“Charles-”

“Answer the bloody question. Am I human to y-"

“Yes,” Kay boldly replied.

Leaning in to scrutinize her, Charles smiled sourly. Kay had the urge to back up, but she couldn’t break away from his stare. 

“Shame on you, Kay.”

“I’m telling the truth,” she insisted. 

“Yes, I believe you think you are.”

Kay desperately thought of a way for her to regain control of the situation. 

“Let… Let us sit down. Talk to me. I… I want to understand-"

“No, what you want to do is to chart everything down and make a discovery out of me. You want to open me up like a chapter book and sniff out the details and get rewarded for it.”

“You agreed to work with me!” Kay defended furiously. "You don't have to share anything you don't want to, remember? I'm not here to force you into anything."

Charles rolled his eyes. "I've heard that sentence too many times for it to mean anything anymore."

“You’re not being fair, Charles,” Kay said gently, ignoring the needles repeatedly stabbing her stomach.

Snorting, Charles took a step forward and placed a bruised hand up against the glass. “You understand the concept of _‘fair’_, do you? That’s interesting. One of us must hold a faulty definition, then. Tell me, Kay, would you like to live the rest of your life in a giant fishbowl? To forget the warmth of the morning sun, the taste of a true laugh, the embrace of a loved one? And for what reason? For being soddin' different? Misunderstood?”

“Charles, I understand that-”

“You don’t,” Charles sighed, shaking his head. “You can’t. I don’t need to read minds to know what’s going through your head. You’re all the same. People, children, scientists… you see _things_. You see walking nightmares in broad daylight and it scares you to death.”

“It doesn’t.”

Charles laughed shrewdly. “Perhaps not anymore, not when you have these oversize tin-men programmed to fire at us without any probable cause.”

“You’re not giving me a chance, Charles. The entire point of my research is to study the similarities between mutants and normal people. I’m not here to be your enemy!”

Charles ducked his head down and released a harsh laugh. “Oh, love, you absolute liar!” When he straightened up, he winced painfully as he pressed his other hand against the glass, too. When he leaned in, Kay shrunk back with fear flooding her eyes.

“There’s no use twisting your own words to me now, Kay. I’m a scholar, after all, and my memory serves me very well. Your mission is to study similarities _and_ differences alike, and the fact that you don’t have a hypothesis gives you free range to your research. You’re not trying to prove that I’m human, and you’re not trying to prove that I’m not. You have no true aim, you’re just… curious… wasting your time as well as my own.”

“We’ve only had one session,” Kay choked out, feeling a sob swelling in her throat. “I’m… I’m trying as best as I can.”

Puffing out his chest, Charles looked as though he was about to berate her with more spitting words, but he paused. Squaring in on her face with his words seemingly dying on his tongue, he regarded her closely with an uncomfortable proximity.

Kay wanted to cry. His words stung her deeply; they burrowed themselves in her chest and made it harder for her to breathe. She felt her eyes burning with tears, but she did not want them to fall, let alone in front of her test subject.

The way he looked at her now was the way an adult looked at a sensitive child who’d just been scolded. There was a soft crease between his brows, a remnant of the angry frown he was wearing. He wasn’t done. Kay knew that, should she encourage him just a little bit, he could keep scolding her for hours.

She did not want to cry, not here, not in front of him, but she did succumb to a nervous swallow. Not only did it catch Charles’ attention, but the Sentinel behind her hissed as it began to scan her calculatingly. She wasn’t feeling threatened, but she’d been told by a guileful mutant that these oversized tin men ran purely on numbers, man-made calculations. The concept of human emotions did not exist to them. She wasn’t sure what she felt exactly. It was a mixture of things: Hurt, shame, embarrassment, failure…

Focusing on Charles’ face, she expected him to be studying the Sentinel with fear, but he was instead still watching her closely. Taking in the small frown, clenched jaw, and the tense muscles in his neck, Kay consciously jutted down her brief observation. There was a range of different emotions playing there, too: Anger, frustration, suffering, grief and… sadness, all of which classified as natural human emotions. Kay tilted her head at him, wishing she had the courage to say something, anything.

Nothing came.

The Sentinel did not interfere, and Kay could see the sudden exhaustion that dawned on Charles’ face.

Sniffing, he heavily pushed himself off the glass. Quietly, he retreated to his bed and laid down on his back. He hissed as he brought an arm up to drape it over his eyes.

Kay stood there awkwardly, frozen in her spot and not knowing what to do next.

Charles released a long sigh. “Go back home and revise your books, miss Harris. You still have much to learn, and I am, in all honesty, no longer interested in pointing out your erroneous methods to you. I’d make better use of my time should I lay here and rot instead.”


	6. Mumbling Thoughts

“You wanted to see me, Professor?” Kay asked timidly with her head peeking around the crack of the office door. 

“Miss Harris, yes. Come in, please.”

Settling down in the wooden seat facing the desk, she waited as her internship coordinator dug around for a file with her name on it. He hadn’t looked up at her since the moment she’d come in. Nervously, Kay gnawed on her bottom lip and clenched her hands with all her might to try to get a hold of her nerves.

Once he had her file opened in front of him, he finally looked up and regarded her with a measured look. 

“Do you know why I asked you to come in today?”

Of course she knew why. After escaping her Wednesday’s session, she’d quickly made the decision to skip her Friday one, too. No force in the world could have pushed her to go back to Trask Industries so soon, not after the way the hot tears streamed down her cheeks. 

She’d received a fax from Trask Industries on Friday night, requesting a reason for her absence. Kay, decidedly, had not replied to them. She didn’t mean to ignore them; she simply didn’t know what to tell them. 

Now, however, Kay could see a copy of that fax in her file, along with another certified document from Trask. 

She cleared her throat. “Yes, sir. I know why I’m here.”

“Apparently you did not attend your last session and neglected to state your reasons why. Also, I’d just received yet another fax this morning from William Stryker himself asking _me _to justify your absence.”

“I’m sorry,” Kay blurted, feeling so incredibly pathetic. “I was going to reply to them, really, but time ran away from me. I needed a bit of space from my internship.” 

Her coordinator sat back against his seat and waited for her expectantly.

Kay sighed. “I didn’t have a good session on Wednesday. I handled the situation very poorly and… and I guess I don’t know how to deal with it now.”

“Stryker did mention that a rouse had built up between you and your test subject.”

_And he didn’t bother interjecting, I see,_Kay grumbled internally.

“Yes,” she replied. “I didn’t think it was anything too serious. My subject stood up to me and I… I don’t know. I shrunk. It was hard to go back there on Friday, so I didn’t. I needed some time.”

Her coordinator released a long exhale. “That’s all perfectly fine, Kay, no one said this would be easy. We expect this sort of thing to happen to our students. After all, you’ve never had any prior experience to this, but the fact that you needed ‘some time’ is not the issue here. You violated Trask’s contract, which explicitly requested that you update them on any changes in your schedule. You realize, of course, that they reserve your test subject for you during your scheduled hour, don’t you? It’s a great privilege.” 

“I’m sorry,” she gritted out. “When I left on Wednesday, I thought I wanted to quit the program. Why couldn’t Colonel Stryker intervene when he saw that my mutant displayed aggressive behavior towards me?”

Her coordinator sat back with raised eyebrows. “What kind of aggressive behavior?”

Kay bit her lip. “Well… he yelled at me, and accused me, and said some really harsh things.”

“Well, things like that are expected to happen, too, aren’t they? The entire idea of your program is to allow you to explore ways in which you can control your subject, direct their thoughts, soothe them, lead the discussion. Besides, you best be assured that Stryker would certainly intervene should you ever be exposed to any form of threat. Your safety is never jeopardized. Now, I believe you can improve, if you’d just apologize to the facility and attend your sessions in a timely manner.”

Kay sighed. “Have I completely messed up?”

“No, not completely. Considering that you are the first psychology student we’ve sent to Trask Industries, I think it’s only fair that you feel overwhelmed in such an intense environment. Stryker understands this as well. Apart from his slight reprimand, the rest of his letter expressed how impressed he was with your first session.”

Kay perked up. “Really?”

He nodded. “It’s a tough internship, Kay. We understand that, but you have to be committed, yes? If you don’t feel comfortable continuing, you’ll have to notify us immediately rather than disappear and have both Stryker and I chase after you.”

Embarrassed, Kay could feel her cheeks burn. “I understand. I’ll apologize to them at once.”

Scratching the back of his neck in thought, her coordinator gave a reluctant sneer. “You know what? I’ll reply to them on your behalf, explain that you had some dire reason for skipping your session without informing them. Be aware, however, that this’ll still count as an unexcused absence. You don’t have many of those to spare.”

Kay nodded eagerly, getting up from her seat. “Yes, I know. Thank you so much, professor. I’ll do better next time.”

“And go to your next session!” he called after her just as she was about to close the office door behind her. 

“I will.”

\------------

She’d meant what she’d said, but Kay was a psychology student. She knew that ‘saying’ was not doing, and she knew that ‘not doing’ was a terribly easy task to accomplish.

Since her failed session, she’d tried not to think about it anymore. She was good at that sometimes, subconsciously erasing her problems until they came back to slap her in the face. She could still feel the figurative sting against her cheek.

Letting the horrible memory seep back into her head, Kay couldn’t help but tense up at the sharp words she could still hear and the furious eyes she could still see. She still didn’t entirely understand what had happened that day, and whether or not she had actually done anything wrong.

She hadn’t lied to him. He _was_ human to her… more or less. He was a sub-category of ‘human’, a small division, maybe, but still human. At least, that’s what she tried convincing herself of now as she scurried off to her next class.

Settling into her preferred seat at the end of the lecture hall, Kay still couldn’t shake away the piling thoughts even after the lecture had started. She found it difficult to pay attention now that all that raided her mind was her mutant subject. Luckily, Research Design wasn’t one of her favorite classes; she didn’t entirely mind muting out her professor and allowing her brain to dive into some more unrelated topics. Considering that her professor liked dimming the lights and switching on the projector all the time, it all the more encouraged her to lose interest.

No answer would’ve satisfied him. Kay was confidently certain about that. Had she agreed that he wasn’t human to her, he would’ve likely kicked her out in the same fashion. By telling him what he wanted to hear, however, he accused her of lying to him.

Kay painfully bit the inside of her cheeks.

“It was a trick, the _bastard._” she muttered bitterly under her breath.

“_Excuse me_?”

Confused, Kay looked to the boy slouching in the seat next to her. He didn’t look like he was paying attention neither, judging by his closed books and lack of pen. He wasn’t turned to her, and Kay couldn’t really make out his features in the dark, but she could tell that he watched her out of the corner of his eye.

“Didn’t say anything,” Kay brushed off dismissively and pretended to be jutting down some incomprehensible notes.

“Alright…” replied the boy skeptically, but otherwise stayed quiet.

The class was one hour long, and Kay had spent about forty-five minutes of it grumbling to herself and feeling angry. She wished she had the courage to quit her internship, but, more than that, she wished she had the courage to face it. She knew she’d be back there on Monday morning. That was just the kind of person she was… not because she was intrinsically brave, but because she didn’t want to disappoint herself, or her professor, or Stryker… or even her mutant.

_You already disappointed him, dumb-dumb, _a snarky voiced chastened at the back of her head.

Kay subtly shook her head. She was going to prove him wrong. She had to. It was literally all she _could_ do, because, clearly, Charles had a bad habit of thinking he was always right.

Ten minutes before class ended, the boy next to her decided he’d wasted enough time here and began to collect his books. Rising from his seat, Kay moved her legs out of the way for him to squeeze by.

“Good luck teaching the bastard a lesson,” he whispered right before moving away from her and escaping through the back door of the lecture hall.

Kay allowed a short moment of temporarily letting Charles slip from her mind as she instead wondered who the hell that boy was.

————————

His head hurt.

There had been a painful drumming in there for days, and it wasn’t going anywhere.

Charles paced around his cell with no true ambition. Moving around usually helped, but not this time. The pain only intensified.

He couldn’t remember the last time his mind was so deafeningly quiet. There was not a breath in there, not even an echo. His mind was once a vessel of voices wanting to be heard, voices he carried around with him _always_. It used to be filled with so many lives, so many stories. His head never felt so empty, yet idle thoughts have never been so loud. There was only himself in there, and he couldn’t _stand _himself.

Looking around the small cell, he tried to find something to fill the silence. Anything. Even the Sentinel watching him made no noise. It didn’t even have the decency of giving an occasional wheeze, something he could anchor himself to. Charles glared at it. The least it could do was indulge him in a meaningless conversation! Knowing that it would be Stryker’s voice at the receiving end, though, made him dismiss the idea completely.

Turning to the old record player they’ve supplied him with, Charles desperately turned it on and let it play the last thing he’d listened to: The Bee Gees. Charles clenched his jaw at the familiar music. He didn’t have the luxury of owning more than a small number of records; he simply made do with what he was given. He needed noise. Lots of it. More than he cared to admit, even to himself.

As the record spun and the cell subdued with music, Charles closed his eyes and let his head drop back. 

_Drown it out, _he chanted in his head, _drown out the voice that never fills the quiet._

Running a hand over his face, he winced at the sting of his left eye. It was still a tad swollen, but it wasn’t the worst he’d experienced. He’d live.

Charles scoffed loudly at that. He needed to focus more on the noise, to allow it to take over him.

Flopping onto his cot, Charles sighed deeply and tried to control his thoughts. Such brutal, _merciless_ thoughts. Every voice in his head was his own, and he loathed it with every fibre of his being.

_It’s all your fault._

_You should’ve known better._

_You were meant to protect them._

_What of your friends?_

_Where ARE your friends?_

_Hank, Raven, Erik, Alex, Scott, Sean… Moira... _

_Every breath you take is stolen from them._

_They trusted you._

_You let them down._

_You’re a failure, Charles._

_You belong in here._

_Rot. It’s the least you can do._

_Rot and pray you’re never saved._

Clutching his head, Charles bared his teeth and released a frustrated growl. He could barely hear himself over the music. The thoughts weren’t going anywhere. They crashed around madly in furious waves, suffocating him, torturing him. 

“Stop,” he groused out. “Stop, stop, stop…”

The waves never calmed.

When the cell filled with nothing but crackling static, Charles was mentally exhausted. It felt as though he’d buried himself a deep hole and lain in it like a cold corpse. There was no light, no warmth… and the waves were slowly seeping in, flooding the grave he’d dug for himself with every dark and brutal thought in the world.

Charles released a long exhale. He could really use a cigarette right about now… He’d likely set himself on fire before actually getting a kick of the nicotine…

The thought drew a cruel laugh out of him.

A soft beeping sound cut through the silence now as the poisonous gas started to seep into his cell and swallow him whole. He never fought it anymore. He let the poison take hold of his body and pretended, for a minute, that it was slowly killing him. He could feel his nerves buzzing at the tips of his fingers, but the feeling quickly subdued, and he went back to feeling like nothing but complete and utter shit.

Staring up at the ceiling, he lazily traced the scratch marks etched into the veneer. He didn’t count them the way that he normally did. Instead, he found himself reminiscing to the last time he played this made-up game of his. His thoughts drifted to the small corner of his mind which he hardly ever used anymore. The corner he allocated to store only the curious of thoughts and the freshest of memories.

_Mousy little Kay Harris._

He wasn’t alarmed by his readiness to accept a new topic of interest. Kay Harris commonly crossed his mind every now and then, between the furious fits of anger and the occasional trauma-fuelled outbursts. He didn’t have much else to think about, after all, apart from his ever-growing guilt and disdain for the past.

Only when he thinks about her now does he realize that he hadn’t seen her in a few days. This thought alone was enough to distract him from that grating voice nagging away at him. Had it been two days? Shouldn’t she have visited him that morning? Had it been _more _than two days? How many?? For a few minutes, Charles laid motionless, pondering away at this single question. An answer never formed.

He shouldn’t have lost his temper on her. She was only a young student trying her hardest to succeed. He should have known what that feels like, he should have been able to remember. 

Charles balled his hands into tight fists. 

She’d offered him some relief during the few visits she’d paid him, and he was harsh on her every time. She was so inexperienced and behaved so nervously, but she’d helped him talk, gradually brought back a few distant memories he thought he’d lost. He needed that, needed to be reminded of life before _this_. Within the five years he’d spent here, she was the only link to the outside world, the world he’d forgotten still existed.

“And then you had to go and fuck it all up, didn’t you, Charlie Boy,” he bitterly grated. 

She didn’t come back. Of course she wouldn’t, what did he expect? 

He was never so temperamental before. _Never_. Not even when he thought he was the only mutant in the world, not even when his parents died, not even when Erik…

_Forgive me, old friend…_

There was a time when people looked to him as the mediator, the _peacemaker_. He’d made so many promises… too many…

With a frustrated growl, he leapt from the bed and went to face the impassive Sentinel.

“Stryker, I have a request to make.”

Nothing.

“Stryker! I know you can hear me!” he called out exasperatedly. 

A red light flashed on the Sentinel’s barreled chest. “Monitor office is vacant. Please leave a 10 second message.”

“Programmed some manners into it, eh, Stryker? How ethical. I have a request to make and I am not voicing it to Tin Man here. I’ll wait.” 

With a tired sigh, Charles returned to sit on his cot without any purpose at all. He clasped his hands together between his knees and thought about Kay some more, only because she’d proven to be a great distraction.

He couldn’t see properly the last time she’d visited, not with how his eyes were all puffed and blood-filled. He didn’t really need to see to know how her face had looked before she’d left. He heard it in her voice, in her shallow breaths, in her quicken steps as she fled from his cell. He knew her eyes had gone wet, that her lip had likely quivered, that her shoulders drew into themselves cripplingly. He once cared for his students whenever they approached him in such a disheartening state, seeking help, refuge, or simply guidance. Never, in his life, did Charles think he would be capable of driving a person to tears in this way.

_How do you expect to prove you’re human when you act so hostile and disconnected all the time? _

Charles grunted under his breath.

The worst part was that it wasn’t _acting_ at all. His anger and aggression was as real and genuine as Kay’s confusion and fear. He couldn’t help it. A furious fire was burning inside of him all… the… _time_. It was constantly dying to break out, to set the entire cell ablaze. Day after day, it grew fiercer, more powerful. He could hear its crackle, smell the rancid smoke, taste the ashes in his mouth. It made him feel ill, but he had nothing to douse the fire with. All he could do was let it roar.

_You deserve it, anyway,_ a dark voice said to him. _You know you deserve to be consumed by the fire._

Charles chuckled very, very cynically. “My own personal hell.”

Much like a broken record, his thoughts spun around endlessly. They went from remembering his friends and reliving some painful memories to landing back on Kay and envisioning the tears he could not see. It was a continuous cycle he could not control.

_Anger, pain, anger, pain, anger, pain…_

_On, and on, and on, and on, and on…_

Charles had no way of measuring time, but he could’ve stayed this way for hours. When the cell door finally cranked open, Charles had long exhausted his mind. He was flopped down crookedly on his bed and lifted his head tiredly, squinting to identify his intruder.

Stryker stood in front of the glass wall with his hands behind his back and a smug little grin on his face.

“Good evening, Charles. How are you feeling today?”

Charles resisted the urge to cuss.

“Swell. As swell as a rotten corpse.”

Stryker chuckled with a shake of his head. “Can’t help being melodramatic, can you? Old habits die hard, I suppose.”

Irritated, Charles sneered. “Why are you here? I’m in no mood to be hauled into a lab today.”

Amused, Stryker gave his head an inquisitive tilt. “You left me a message earlier. Something about a request?”

Confused, Charles sat up and jadedly rubbed the side of his head.

“Are we beginning to forget our fleeting thoughts, Charles?”

“I didn’t forget,” Charles snapped, eyes burning with that raging inner fire.

“Easy, Charles,” Stryker said calmly. “You better watch your temper. Gets you into nothing but trouble, as I recall. Do you still wish to make a request, or should I invest my time in more pressing matters?”

With a low growl, Charles pushed off his cot and slowly made his way to face this so-called _‘scientist’_.

“I want to shave my face.”

For a whole three seconds, Stryker looked completely taken aback; a rare moment. Slowly, recollection kicked in.

“Miss Kay Harris requested that of you one week ago,” he said, frowning slightly and looking like he was mentally calculating something in his head.

Charles gave a nasty smile that did not reach his eyes.

_Of course you’ve been paying attention,_ he quietly thought to himself.

“Why would you adhere to her wish?” Stryker asked in a curious tone.

“It’s the least I can do,” Charles answered sullenly, wishing he didn’t sound as useless as he’d felt.

“Well, isn’t this interesting,” Stryker said delightedly. “You understand that, after your substantial episode, there’s no telling if Miss Harris is ever returning.”

Clenching his jaw, Charles willed himself to compose his nerves.

“I understand. Is… is she not coming back?”

He didn’t want to ask that question, that unbelievably _annoying_ question. Least of all, he didn’t want to ask Stryker, of all people. Unfortunately, there was no one else to ask, and the question had gnawed at his mind for far too long to be ignored any further.

Stryker’s eyes brightened with joy. “Do you miss her?”

“No,” Charles deadpanned. “I’m only tired of your company and found her far less boring.”

Stryker laughed while Charles pretended to burn holes into the scientist’s grinning face.

“How most interesting! For the sake of Miss Harris, I’ll arrange your barber’s appointment. I hope you won’t be too disappointed if she doesn’t come back, however. You were quite heartless towards her.”

With his patience wearing thin over Stryker’s attempt at getting a row out of him, Charles turned away and returned to his cot. Laying down and throwing the cover over his head, he released a quiet sigh.

“You can let yourself out, Stryker. I’d like to resume my musings rather than engage in your bait to fight.”

“I’m nothing if not an agent of peace, Charles.”

With his eyes closed, Charles grinned to himself under the sheets.

“And I’m nothing if not a mutant test subject.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took FOREVER to post this chapter. It took a while to be satisfied with it but I'm fairly happy with how it turned out. 
> 
> Please don't be shy to let me know what you think! As usual, I thrive on engagement and support :)
> 
> PS: I hope every one of you is safe and please take care of one another <3


	7. The Labs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the ridiculously long delay! Please accept this slightly longer chapter in token of my apology :)

On a late Monday night, Kay hunched over the kitchen counter with her nose buried in her books and notes. She hardly remembered to scratch an itch, hardly remembered to blink her eyes.

_‘Go back home and revise your books, miss Harris. You still have much to learn, and I am, in all honesty, no longer interested in pointing out your erroneous methods to you.’_

Kay’s teeth hurt as she grinded them.

Those words haunted her all day, since she’d allowed the painful memory of her last session to seep back in. They mocked her, belittled her, laughed at her. She couldn’t shake them off.

“Might as well have called me stupid while you were at it,” Kay mumbled to herself, viciously scrawling down some key notes in the overly crowded margin.

Hearing the front door shut close, she peered up to catch Gema’s exuberant grin as she walked in.

Relieved, Kay sighed and pushed her books away with more force than needed.

“Finally! Someone to distract me!”

Tossing her satchel away, Gema laughed heartily. “Told you it wasn’t healthy for you to spend all day like this. You realize you’ve barely moved since morning, don’t you?”

“Yes, I’m quite aware."

“You’re not still working on your internship thingy, are you?”

“I'm revising my methodology,” Kay explained, wincing as she stretched her arms over her head. Her muscles were tense, and her neck was horribly cramped.

Gema pulled up a seat in front of Kay and rested her chin in the palm of her hand. She leaned into Kay’s scribbled notes and frowned slightly.

“Wow. Your handwriting is truly-”

“Horrendous, I know,” Kay cut in, grimacing as she rolled her shoulders to relieve the tension that’d settled there, too. “It gets like this when I’m nervous. If I’m going back to Trask’s tomorrow, I’m determined to at least _sound_ professional and brave. It’s important that I sound like I know what I’m talking about… not like some poor, misguided child who hasn’t got a clue.”

Gema smiled. “Not **_if _**you go back, **_when_ **you go back. You’re going, even if I have to drive you there myself. Also, you do know what you’re talking about. You just get the jitters sometimes. That’s normal.”

“Wish the jitters would mind their own business,” Kay grumbled. “I haven’t figured out how to deal with him yet, my mutant. He was in such a vile mood last time. He seemed broken, and I don’t just mean physically.”

“Well, I’m no psychology professional, but I don’t think it’s your job to give him therapy. You’re there to study him and that’s it, right?”

“Right…” Kay said slowly. “But he was so beaten up, so much in pain… Had you seen him, Gema, you would’ve felt sorry for him.”

“That’s only because he looks human,” Gema reasoned with her gently. “He’s a mutant confined at Trask’s. I’m sure he gave them a good reason for beating him up the way you described.”

“Only because he looks human…” Kay mused to herself. “It makes sense when you think of it that way, doesn’t it? I guess you’re right. He’s just a mutant, after all…”

_Just an uncommonly intellectual mutant who looks like he’s carrying the weight of the entire world on his shoulders._

Shaking that thought away, Kay placed a fresh smile on her face. “Anyway, enough about my internship. I’m sick of even thinking about it. Tell me what’s got you looking all jolly and bouncy tonight.”

That bright grin returned to Gema’s face. “We’ve finished making props for Dax’s workshop. Do you know what this means?”

“No more getting stabbed by deadly splinters?”

“Exactly! And no more fanning my hair from sawdust! I’ll still be helping to organize everything, though. The workshop is booked for the weekend two weeks from now, and… I was wondering...”

“Yes?” Kay prods curiously, watching the subtle uncertainty tweaking the corner of Gema’s mouth.

“Well… I know you’re already busy with so many things, but I was wondering if you’d mind lending an extra hand when the weekend comes. I’m the only person volunteering to help, but I totally understand if carpeting isn’t your thing. Hell, it isn’t really my thing either, but Dax needs the support.”

“Wow, Gema,” Kay grinned amusedly. “I think this is the first time I see you hesitating to ask me anything.”

Gema snorted good-naturedly. “See? We all get the jitters.”

“Well, don’t feel jittery, because you shouldn’t even need to ask. I’d love to help. It’ll be fun. God knows I could sure use a change in my routine.”

“Aww, you’re the best!” Gema squealed and leaned over the counter to give Kay a quick hug. “Dax would really appreciate it, too!”

“Will I be getting sawdust in my hair?” Kay asked as realization slowly hit her.

Gema threw her a sympathetic smile. “Oh honey. You’ll be washing it out of your hair for a week.”

A laugh bubbled out of Kay, and it felt _so_ _good_ to laugh like that.

“I can hardly wait.”

<><><> 

He waited for her.

It felt like time was hardly moving at all, but he waited for her all the same with a patience he didn’t know existed.

Kay Harris had become a typical presence in his head, often being his go-to thought when everything else around him started crashing down on him. He’d only had three -disastrous- sessions with her, and yet he often found the memory of her at the surface of his mind, a ready distraction.

It became a new routine for him, a mechanism against his self-destructing thoughts. It was: Pain, self-loathing, then Kay… Pain, self-loathing, then Kay… Over and over again. He didn’t mind it so much. Allowing her to take form in his head was strangely refreshing; a welcoming change from the horrible toxic thoughts he’d developed over the years. They were still there, of course, but now Charles at least had a small window of peace.

She had yet to show up, but Charles had all the time in the world to wait, and he _would_ wait. What else was there to do? He wanted someone to talk to, just _talk_. He wanted to look at a fresh new face, and better yet, a girl. Charles wasn’t particularly attracted to Kay, but he missed the general female presence in a room. There’s a softness that comes when conversing with them, a distinctive calmness and amusement in conversation, a sort of playful banter that stirs automatically.

He rehearsed his apology to her. Wrote and rewrote speeches that would’ve surely won him an award. He recited them in his head to no one in particular and tried to imagine her reaction. Regardless of how inexperienced and nervous she was, Charles was certain he wanted her to continue to visit him. For that reason, his apologetic words had better be sincere and honest. He’d probably spent endless hours rehearsing, though there was no way of him telling how long exactly. He could’ve kept this up for days.

A warning beeping sound ruined his concentration to let him know he was about to get his dose of poisonous gas. He accepted it submissively, and once his body fell victim to the gas, Charles knew what would shortly happen next. He’d memorized the way things worked around here. He counted sixty seconds under his breath until the Sentinal guarding him rose to its feet and wheezed loudly.

“Mutant 218 summoned for electroconvulsive therapy. Place your hands behind your head.”

Charles grinned secretively to himself. He was always on time and accurate.

Exhausted and still recovering from his weakened state, he did as he was told with some forced effort and waited for the Sentinel to unlock his cell. He flinched at the bite of cold metal as the Sentinal grabbed the back of his neck and led him out into the hall.

Whenever Charles was taken to the labs, he would never see anyone else but scientists walking around in long, commercial lab coats. It made him feel like he was the only mutant under this facility’s roof. They never spoke to him, never minded him any attention as he was ushered to the only area he’d ever been to other than his homey fishbowl.

Upon entering the labs, he was greeted by Donovan, a slimy associate of Stryker’s. Charles didn’t like him any better. Donovan was younger by a few years, but the time he’d spent conducting unethical experiments underground had paled his skin and deepened the harsh lines on his face.

“Good morning, Charles,” he said amiably, adjusting his glasses to give Charles a better look. “In all my years working with you, I believe this is the most I’ve seen of your face.”

It’s true. Charles couldn’t remember the last time he’d completely shaved his beard, but that tiny detail was the least of his concern at the moment.

“You’ve never worked with me,” Charles replied tersely, unable to keep his mouth shut. “On me, _yes_.”

Donovan gave a small smile, not as cruel as Stryker’s, but just as amused. He gestured the Sentinel to place Charles onto the metal slab in the middle of the room just as Donovan’s crew came to strap him down by the wrists and ankles.

The lights suddenly dimmed, and Donovan returned with a protective gear over his head. He attached what felt like a dozen sensory wires over Charles’s face before reviewing the buzzing devices scattering around them.

_Electroconvulsive therapy…_ Charles snorted to himself. There was nothing therapeutic about it. He knew what was coming next and he was not looking forward to it.

“Now then,” came Donovan’s muffled voice. “Let us begin. Are you comfortable?”

“It’s like a bed of roses,” Charles replied dryly. “You’re welcome to try it.”

“Good man, that’s the spirit,” Donovan commended, giving Charles an undesired pat on the shoulder.

The lights dimmed further until all that shined were the blinking green and blue lights of the monstrous-looking scientific equipment and machines. Charles balled his fists up and mentally readied himself for a most unpleasant ride.

“We’ll continue from where we’d left off,” said Donovan, coming over to loom over Charles’s disgruntled face. “Where is the rest of your mutant collective from five years ago?”

Charles squared his jaw. “What mutant collecti-?”

The lab erupted with Charles’s piercing screech as an electrical current zapped the entire length of his spine. His back arched off the slab in agony, feeling as though his bones were disintegrating to dust. When the violent currant finally ceased, he heaved in a lungful of air as though he’d been deprived of it his whole life.

“Come now, Charles,” Donovan sighed, his voice filtered and distant through the mask he wore. “You know what I’m talking about. Why must you insist on being stubborn and wasting our time?”

“I keep telling you and you never listen,” Charles panted, chest contracting against the tight constraints. “I know nothing, and you’re wasting your own fuckin’ time. Why must you insist on asking me such useless questions when you know I’ve been held captive here for well over five years?”

“Oh, Charles,” there was a distinct smile in Donovan’s voice. “I’m fully aware your means of contact with the outside world has been… considerably limited, however perhaps I should’ve worded my question more specifically. Where did the rest of your mutant collective flee to five years ago?”

“I don’t know.”

Charles bit down on his teeth as yet another current shot through him just as violently as the first time. He denied Donovan the pleasure of crying out again, but his teeth ached when the pain abruptly subsided.

“Lying to us will only prolong your suffering,” Donovan explained calmly. “We base everything here off evidence, Charles. We possess your topmost secret documents, retrieved from your personal library at X-Mansion. You’ve signed agreements with various people whose records do not exist in the United States or there elsewhere in the world. Trask’s private investigators have found dated bills of what they believe were used to build safehouses for runaway mutants. You’ve spent over seven hundred million, Charles. There’s hardly a penny left in your account. Did you, or did you not invest in these mutant shelters and if so, where are they?”

A slow, bitter smile carved itself along Charles’s bruised face. He momentarily revelled at the scientist’s desperate tone, quietly enjoying its itching curiosity.

Although his smile stayed intact, Charles quirked a quizzical brow in portrayal of total aloofness. “What safehouses?”

The electricity didn’t wipe the hysterical smile off his face. When it stopped, his muscles cramped and his lungs hurt when he breathed, but Charles couldn’t help the weak laugh that escaped him.

“Do you find all this amusing, Charles?” Donovan asked, blatantly annoyed and impatient.

“I certainly do,” Charles chuckled to himself, wincing at the piercing pain in his lungs. “I understand how frustrating this may be to you, Donovan, but I can’t help but find humor.”

“And, pray tell, what’s so humerous to you?”

Charles snickered to himself again, coughing when feeling choked of the air those electrical currents robbed him of. “I doubt you’ll find it funny.”

“Try me.”

“Well,” Charles started leisurely. “I would’ve expected something a little more impressive from Trask’s. Not only are you tremendously late with your investigations, but your facts are wrong to the letter,” he laughed through his teeth, hissing uncontrollably. “And it took you five years, too!”

“Oh?” Donovan mused. “Are you denying your affiliation in hiding mutant stowaways?”

“I’d love to tell you, only my memories betray me. With all those years you’ve spent poking around my head, I’m afraid I have trouble remembering _incredibly important_ details which I’m sure would’ve satisfied your curiosity.”

Donovan laughed shortly. “Don’t play that game with me, Charles. You know we’ll find out sooner or later, and I advise you to cooperate before we find someone else who will. You know you’re not much use to us if you don’t prove your worth, and we have many forms of discipline here. Cooperate or you’ll regret it.”

“Did you promise Raven the same thing?” The humor suddenly dropped from Charles’s face without a trace. Fire flickered in those cold, blue eyes and a sardonic smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Did you discipline her until you stripped her clean of her genetically mutated cells? Tell me, who are the true animals, when mutants exhibit the most humanity?”

Donovan fell quiet for a minute. His gloved hands tighten around the tools he held as he regarded Charles thoughtfully. “What we do at Trask’s, Charles, is for the good of mankind. Your blue friend had gone rogue and you know it. She assassinated Bolivar Trask, the very founder of this institution. Who was the animal then?”

Charles glared daggers at him, eyes searing with fury and disdain.

“And you were trying to stop her,” Donovan continued. “Weren’t you Charles? You saw the monster she was morphing into and it frightened you.”

“Trask was not the only _saint_ to ever care for mankind,” Charles snarled.

“So, you went against your own kind to save the rest.”

“No,” Charles scowled. “I’ve only ever wanted the two races to come together in peace, to live harmoniously on the same plane without having one trying to rip the other’s throat out.”

“Well, the likes of your blue friend don’t seem to favor your ideology, dear friend. Why don’t you just tell us where the rest are hiding and save yourself anymore trouble. You’re a smart man, well-educated. If you agree to work alongside us to aid our cause, we could think about sparing you, allowing you a life outside your cell, a life among _us_.”

“_I would never_-“

“Because let me tell you this,” Donovan cut in. “In all the years you’ve spent cooped up here, _nobody _has _ever_ come by to see you, to ask about you. Not even a mortal human. You have no one, Charles. Who are you so eager to protect? Who are you fighting for from behind bars? Mutants aren’t looking for world peace, but we are. Help us, and we’ll help you. You’ll find us a lot more merciful than you think.”

A hundred different thoughts rushed in and out of Charles’s head, making him scrunch his eyes close to try and silence them. This wasn’t the first time Donovan tried getting under his skin this way, and Charles hated to admit just how much those words affected him. Words like this would manifest into toxic thoughts, and toxic thoughts would crawl into bed with him and keep him wide awake all night long feeling like a worthless failure and so unimaginably _lonely_.

The quiet voice he’d tried so hard to muffle for days was beginning to whisper its redundant anecdotes in his ear.

_What a disappointment._

_You’re long forgotten now._

_You know it’s true._

_You cared for so many, yet no one cares for you._

_What good are you to the world outside?_

_You’re a nobody._

_And you will die a nobody._

_Because no one ever cares for a nobody._

“What do you say, Charles?”

Charles ignored the waiting scientist, too engrossed in his self-inflicted pain and torture to feel threatened by the wires hooked onto him. What’s more dangerous than a scientist trying to gauge some information from him was when Charles fell into a black state like this, when it seemed as though the whole world was a joke and nothing mattered, least of all him.

“Charles, I’m waiting. What do you say?”

_Worthless. Forgotten. Sham._

Charles clenched his teeth, yelling at the voice to shut up so that he could think somewhat coherently. He could be as weak and helpless as he wants to be in his head, but never elsewhere. He could never be vulnerable in the dangerous clutches of Trask Industries, who would milk him dry of the secrets he swore to forever keep, plans he’d vowed to never reveal.

“I say…”

_You are a worthless forgotten sham… but you’ve made promises you must never break, and you will bear this burden through hell and back, way beyond your final breath._

Snapping his head to Donovan, Charles flashed him a derisive smile that oozed with defiance and contempt. “I say fuck you and fuck this facility. You can skin me alive and pull my fingernails clean off if you like, but I will still smile at you to tell you and your team of amateur investigators to go fuck yoursel-.”

His vision went black, fingers aggressively curling at the sudden spikes of electricity that struck him.

<><><> 

Charles couldn’t remember returning to his fishbowl.

He woke up sprawled out on his cot, as though whoever brought him back deposited him here unceremoniously without a thought. A migraine violently drummed against his skull and his limbs felt weak and numb. His vision was blurred, but Charles wasn’t alarmed. It would come back gradually.

_You never know how to keep your mouth shut, eh, Charlie Boy? _

Charles rolled his eyes at the patronizing voice in his head. He was set on ignoring it completely, but the voice only grew louder as Charles began to tiredly sit up.

_Five years._

_You mocked their efforts for five years._

_What have _ ** _you_ ** _ done in five years?_

_Besides moping and cursing on a regular basis._

He rolled his eyes again, tired of the voice that never shut up, even after having just woken up from a most reprehensible blackout. The first time this happened to him, Charles stayed in bed for hours, hardly moving an inch in hopes to relieve himself of the buzzing sensation racing through his bloodstream. He was used to it now. He grimaced at the taste of metal in his mouth, a common aftertaste to the electrical shocks he’d received. His throat was as dry as sand, but he knew he’d find a small plastic cup filled with water on his cell floor—like there always was when he came to. He downed the lukewarm water at one go, feeling it appease his throat like a soothing balm. Carelessly, he dropped the cup back down where he found it, knowing it would be gone the next time he wakes up from a restless sleep.

Slowly dragging his feet towards his record player, he was set on drowning out that little voice before it grew too confident and ate him up for the rest of the day.

His hands moved absently, not really paying attention to the record they’d picked and adjusted into the dated machine. Immediately, John Lennon’s voice broke into the cell, softly singing Across the Universe in a voice so oddly comforting that Charles overlooked the song’s ill-timing and listened to the gentle words.

_**Words are flowing out**_ **_  
Like endless rain into a paper cup  
They slither while they pass  
They slip away across the universe_ **

He closed his eyes, allowing his mind to calm, to unlock a few memories he hardly ever visited anymore. _Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. _Charles sighed sullenly. The school that should’ve been revolutionary… the school that never saw its opening day…

It was a hot summer’s day when Hank McCoy first introduced Charles to that melancholy song. He didn’t do so purposefully; he never sang it out loud. They’d spent all summer refurbishing the X-Mansion and equipping it with only the advanced technology in preparation of the school year that never came, and Hank did nothing but chant this damned song in his head. If he wasn’t singing it, he was either humming it or whistling it, and it drove Charles mad with frustration.

_**Pools of sorrow, waves of joy**_ **_  
Are drifting through my opened mind  
Possessing and caressing me_ **

‘The song makes no bloody sense,’ Charles would constantly think to himself in annoyance, unable to understand why Hank would have a song like that stuck in his head for days-on-end. But despite his irritation, and despite having learned the words by heart against his own volition, Charles never once snapped and demanded Hank to think up a different song. After all, he never had any true business to be listening in on his thoughts. Served him right for snooping without permission.

_**Nothing's gonna change my world**_ **_  
Nothing's gonna change my world_ **

Hank had always harbored serious doubt towards the humans. He may have stayed loyal to Charles and aided in his quest to promote peace, but Hank was always afraid of being found out, ridiculed, and ultimately, rejected.

_**Nothing's gonna change my world**_ **_  
Nothing's gonna change my world_ **

He understood now. As the song drifted to its fading end, Charles found himself reflecting to the dismal thoughts he’d often found in Hank’s head all those years ago. The thoughts Hank never voiced out loud.

“Nothing’s gonna change my world…” he mumbled to himself, hands firmly gripping the wooden record player as the next song started to play. “I’m sorry, Hank,” Charles murmured, hoping that his words would somehow miraculously reach his old friend. “Wherever you are, no matter what happens, stay far, _far_ away from this place.”

He didn’t pay attention to the new song that played despite having the volume set on high. It didn’t bother him; noise often comforted him now. It was a soothing contrast to the cruel voice that relentlessly nagged at him. The voice never completely disappeared, it was always there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for a moment of vulnerability before it pounced, and so Charles longed for distractions. To have his cell blasted with music was a privilege he was fully prepared to exploit until his ears bled.

Releasing the grip he had on the record player, Charles ran a hand through his mussy hair and brushed it out of his face. Turning to flop into his desolate chair, he froze. Although his vision had adjusted since he got up, blurry blotches still subverted his sight, however it was impossible to hallucinate the image that stood before him.

She came back.

Kay Harris stood in the middle of his cell, a few feet away from the thick glass wall that separated them. With her backpack slung across one shoulder, she held herself stiffly, staring back at him as though she couldn’t recognize him. Despite the partial shock of finding her there, and the sudden wave of relief he felt washing over him, one substantial thought raided his mind as he raked his eyes over her rigid form: Her hair was unbound and tumbling down past her shoulders. It looked perfectly ordinary. There was absolutely nothing special about it, but its soft waves were dark as chocolate, and it framed her face like a portrait lauded for its dexterity. There had to be a hint of hidden specialness to that ordinariness, Charles privately thought to himself.

Abruptly, he stopped the record from playing and the cell plunged into a sudden silence. Charles parted his lips, waiting for the rehearsed apology to expertly recite itself to her now that she finally returned, but nothing came out. He wracked his brain for it, tried to retrieve snippets of it. There was something along the lines of ‘_Please, forgive my unwarranted behavior_’, and ‘_I should learn to hold my tongue and remember my manners’_, but Charles could not paste it all together. Although he hoped she’d show up again, a part of him didn’t think she actually would. Why would she come back? Confusedly, he watched her speechlessly.

Surprisingly, it was Kay who decided to break the ice.

“I hardly recognized you,” she said, laughing softly. “Did you shave the ferret off because I asked you to?”

_Ferret? _

Charles blinked at her, trying to rid his vision of any residue blurriness.

“You know, I’m not one to give advice,” she continued conversationally, “but playing anything that loud could permanently damage your eardrums. Doesn’t it bother you?”

Mindlessly, Charles shook his head. He frowned at her. “You came back.”

Kay shrugged. “I was always coming back; I have a project to ace.” Her expression changed. Her eyebrows furrowed uncertainly as she regarded him. “Did you prefer that I not come back?”

“I would’ve thought that any normal person would’ve reconsidered working with an ill-tempered man like myself.”

She gave a short snort. “You flatter yourself too much, Charles. Unlike you, I’m willing to give people the chance to improve themselves.”

The banter struck Charles unexpectedly. He could vaguely feel his mouth twitching into an amused smile. Her eyes were bright with determination, and there was something about her posture which conveyed a certain confidence to him. By the set of her tight shoulders, though, Charles could read into her body language and sense that she wasn’t as self-assured as she would like to have him think, but he had to give her props for her efforts. To any other man, she would’ve convinced him without needing to try very hard.

“I’ve figured it out,” she suddenly said, pulling him out of his calculating thoughts. “You once wanted me to guess what you studied to acquire your third PhD. I know what it is now.”

“Oh?” Intrigued, Charles raised a daring brow. “And what have you deduced?”

Crossing her arms, Kay held her head high in boldness. “Psychology. Which is why you’ve been giving me such a hard time over my questions and methods.”

Genuinely impressed, Charles couldn’t stifle the small laugh that escaped him. “Clever, Miss Harris. Although, I should tell you that my studies were specifically related to psychiatry. I believe that makes you far more advanced and knowledgeable than I am in your field of general psychology.”

Kay threw him a dry look. “Praising me now will not put you back in my good graces, _Mr Xavier_. We’re both familiar with human studies and you can’t use these twisting tactics on me to evade an issue that shouldn’t be ignored. I did nothing wrong during my last visit and you know it. You owe me an apology.”

Striding forward until he directly faced her through the glass, Charles opened his mouth without knowing what was about to come out. Suddenly, he could no longer feel the painful twinge in his lungs nor did his migraine throb for attention. She’d come back, and the bliss that soared through him was a sensation he hadn’t experienced in a long, long time.

“I’m sorry,” came his breathless tone, sounding like he’d had those words stuck in his throat all day. “I was an audacious ass to you, a right proper ass at that, and I had no right to be. If I were a better man, I’d convince you to leave and find yourself someone far easier to work with. As it so happens, however, isolation has turned me incredibly self-centred, and I… I miss _talking_ to people. I’m a mutant, but I’m not an animal, regardless of how beastly I behaved towards you, and I’ll prove it to you. Just… talk to me, _at_ me, _with_ me. Ask me what you will, turn me into a bloody experiment if you wish to, just… _talk_. _Please_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope I get better at posting chapters more regularly, just know that I take a lot of care and precision when writing this story. I probably do more research than when I used to for school!
> 
> Let me know what you think of the plot so far! I absolutely love hearing your thoughts so, really, don't be shy ;)
> 
> Song Credit: Across the Universe - The Beatles.


End file.
